Betrayal
by prgurly79
Summary: Spock is convinced he has all of the answers. But when he realizes he doesn't, it could be too late to save the relationship with the woman he loves.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, here's a new fic. I've had this one on the brain for a few weeks and really wanted to do this storyline. Warning upfront—don't read this story if you like warm and fuzzy romances. Lots of angst, lots of drama here. **

**Also—many of you know that I'm a ST09 newbie—not familiar with much of the intricacies of the fandom. That being said, I'm using the Memory Beta (is that what it's called?) as a reference—and that's the science I'm referring to in this story. If you see something in this story that's out of place—please let me know.**

**This story takes place after the movie—Uhura is a Lieutenant and Spock is First Officer, so that's where the viewpoint of this story begins.**

**Otherwise—I would love your reviews. Thanks so much!**

*************

I'd waited long enough.

We'd been busy working patrols at the edge of the Klingon Neutral Zone and the atmosphere was tense. Animosity between the Klingons and the Federation had heightened over the previous weeks and the entire ship was on alert. The crew knew that we were in place to strike at the first indication of trouble.

It had been days since I'd seen Spock for any extended amount of time, save for a few stolen moments with one another between 12 hour shifts. We'd been like passing ships for days and I needed him now more than ever. I was tired, anxious to see him.

I was anxious after my conversation with McCoy.

It was late by most everyone's standards when I set out to find him. The bright, clean halls of the _Enterprise_ were empty as I padded toward his favorite observation deck with slippers on my feet.

He stood in his trademark stance, hands clasped behind his back in the dark of the deck. I knew this was a place where he liked to come and wind down after a long day on the bridge.

Silently, I walked closer, appreciating the strong lines of his face, illuminated only by the stars. He was so still and peaceful in the silence of the deck, I almost hated to disrupt him.

"Spock," I kept my voice to a whisper, despite the fact that we were the only two people in the room.

He stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on the stars.

"I have missed you, Nyota," he said softly. "These few days have been hard on everyone. You must be exhausted," he turned to face me, eyes glancing at the entrance to the deck. No one there.

"I am. How are you holding up?" I asked, standing at his side. I knew he tired less easily than anyone else on board and could work shift after shift without fatigue. Still tonight, I could see the wear of the stress on his face.

"I am…fatigued. Still, I find that while my body wants to rest, my mind cannot. That is why I came here tonight," he took my hand in the dark, a gesture that I appreciated. We could not show affection to each other unless we were alone. The privacy of our relationship was sacred.

He turned to face me. "Tell me what troubles you, Nyota. I can feel your turmoil," he said, voice soft and soothing. I took a deep breath.

I'd rehearsed and rehearsed this conversation over and over again in my mind. During those long shifts, I'd considered the outcome of at least a thousand scenarios. I was tired, I needed him, and I was ready to talk.

"I have some unexpected news," I started—finding that my voice wasn't as strong as I'd hoped it would be.

He quirked an eyebrow at me, as if to compel me to finish.

"I wanted to wait until all of this Klingon madness was over, but I sense we'll be here for a while, and I don't know how to bring this up. Maybe this isn't the best time, I know you're tired—"

He cut me off with a kiss that I had not expected. For Spock, that was an especially risky move.

"Tell me what ails you, _ashayam_."

I let out a deep breath.

"I'm pregnant." I choked the words out, flinched—waited for his response.

His eyes, black as ever, went flat. He dropped my hand.

"Impossible."

In my head, I had gone over ever scenario. Anger, happiness, guilt, worry. I'd come up with answers and kind words and reassurances for all of them. But never in my wildest dreams had I anticipated denial. I didn't think I'd ever heard him say the word "impossible" before. I felt heat creep into my face.

"It's not impossible. It's possible and it's real. I'm almost 6 weeks along," I said slowly. I reached for his hand again and he pulled away.

He said nothing.

My next words were hurried, frantic. "McCoy gave me some antibiotics when I had that sinus infection. They nulled my shot, I didn't realize…"

He cut me off. "Am I to understand you have been with someone else?"

I felt the sting of his accusation acutely.

"What? Spock, of course not—never! I am having your baby, I haven't been with anyone else. How could you even think that?"

My stomach was churning—I could feel my apprehension growing into real fear, bubbling up inside of me, burning my throat.

"There is no other explanation," he said—words terse and acidic. "I cannot impregnate you without medical intervention. You would have to be on a strict regimen of hormones and vitamins to prepare your womb for my child. And to my knowledge, _Nyota_, you are not," he practically spit the words at me, face brimming with fury.

My mouth dropped open and I could feel tears in my eyes, threatening to fall. "I don't know how to explain…"

"You cannot!" He was raging at me, more furious than I had ever seen him. I felt the panic and fear that were inside of me boiling, turning slowly into anger.

"How dare you, Spock? How dare you?" I was loud now, I didn't care who heard me. "I have done nothing but love you—I would never betray you. How dare you accuse me of something like this?" I yelled, angrier now.

His eyes were narrowed, brows close together. "Science cannot lie, _Nyota_. Humans can."

I slapped him clear across the face.

***********


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I had no idea I would stir up so much controversy with this story! I want to address some of your concerns at the start of this next chapter. First, I promise you all that I respect Spock and Uhura's characters far too much to write them as overly dramatic "Jerry Springer" or "Maury" style dramamongers. Second, as far as a paternity test is concerned—Uhura doesn't strike me as the kind of woman who'd chase down any man to prove he's fathered her child. I'm sure technology in the future would make an issue as simple as determining paternity quick and easy—but in my mind, Nyota is far too proud and too strong to stoop to something like that. Also, Spock's dismissal of Nyota's claim is an emotional reaction—but largely about ego. He's one of the smartest men in Starfleet and I think in this instance his ego is really his Achilles' heel. **

**Most importantly—I want to thank all of you for your constructive criticism. It's daunting to try and write for a group of people who know the nuances of the ST universe so intimately—in the end, I'm really just an amateur trying to entertain you guys, and I really hope you like it. Your reviews make my day.**

**Thanks,**

**Ana**

***************

We ended with a whimper and not a bang. There would be no desperate fights, no teary arguments, and no messy trip to each other's quarters to take back the small trinkets we kept in each other's private spheres. I stormed out of the observation deck without one word of protest from the man I loved.

***************

_10 days earlier_

In the back of my mind, I knew something was wrong. It was getting harder for me to get out of bed.

I knew something was wrong when I couldn't shake it. When I was in the final hours of a particularly long shift on the bridge I thought would have to crawl back to my quarters because of my exhaustion. That's why I finally forced myself to go see McCoy.

"Okay, here's the deal, darlin'," he pulled up a stool to sit next to me. I sucked in a breath.

"You're pregnant."

_Oh shit._

"Pregnant? What about the hypo?" I felt suddenly lightheaded and put a hand on the side of the table to steady myself. Bones made a face.

"Remember the conversation we had when I gave you that antibiotic?" he asked.

I nodded weakly. "So, you're sure."

"I do this for a living, Uhura. I'm sure. You going to be okay?" he put a warm hand on my arm.

"I…don't know. I think I just committed career suicide," I mumbled. I was definitely feeling sick now.

_Oh God, I'm going to throw up all over sickbay._

"Come on, you're a smart woman. This happens to a lot of people. Can I ask who—"

"No."

"How long have we been friends, huh? Can't you just give me a hint?"

"No," I said it with such conviction, McCoy dropped it.

_What the hell am I going to tell Spock? _

************

I don't remember walking back to my quarters after I told Spock I was pregnant. Somehow I made it back, somehow I made it into my bed, somehow I'd had the good thought to pull off my clothes and throw on a nightshirt. I felt the urge to cry, but couldn't muster the energy.

_This can't be real. _It was my last thought before I gave into fatigue.

************

I stared long and hard at my reflection in the mirror. I didn't look good. My skin was pale, my face ashen, my stomach was in knots. It was too fragile to try and eat anything so I did what I could and tried to drink some juice. That would have to hold me over.

I looked down at my bathroom counter; saw his shaving cream and razor. Entertained a crazy thought—taking the can and throwing it with all of my strength at the floor. It didn't break of course, but I got some satisfaction from the clanging sound.

_Fuck him._

There it was. The first real threads of anger were pulling at me now, and just as quickly as I'd thought it, I lost it—crying long and hard for the few minutes I had before my shift.

But I was a big girl, so I did what I was supposed to do—washed my face with cold water and reported to the bridge for duty.

**********

It was exactly what I had expected. He refused to look in my direction and I refused to look in his. Kirk could tell something was up right away, cornered me in my chair when most of the bridge was busy.

"Lieutenant—you okay?" he asked, concern written all over his pretty face. I straightened my back a bit, set my jaw.

"I'm fine, Captain," I answered, conjuring a smile. "Is there anything you need from me?"

"No, you just seem like you're not feeling too well," he answered, looking over at Spock. He had his back turned to us, hands clasped behind it.

I pointedly ignored Kirk's glance in Spock's direction, refusing to let my eyes follow his.

"I'm fine," I lied easily.

************

I always knew that he could completely suffocate the Human part of him when he needed to.

It was evident now more than ever as we worked together—apart—on the bridge. He was frigid, downright robotic when were required by duty to address one another.

So was I. I'd always been a strong woman, but for this, I had to dig deep—I found an inner steel I didn't know I had. I needed it now more than ever, when I had to report to work every day and see him.

He hated with the same amount of care and precision as he loved.

I hated him for it.

I found my mind wandering when I worked at my station. Imagined walking right up to him and slapping him again, imagined the entire crew knowing his secret drama.

That would be the most vicious thing I could do to him, to make what was so painfully private between us public.

_He would deserve it._

Of course, I would never do something like that. I did the only thing I knew how to do—I worked and I worked hard. I tried to focus what energy I had at my console, pushed him out of my mind as best I could for the hours I spent on duty.

Nights in my quarters were another story. I had many friends on the ship, but I couldn't bring myself to do much socializing. I spent nights in the dark, listening to music or reading in my bed.

It was not like me to be so withdrawn, but my pregnancy was toying with my moods. The only real physical change I could see in my body was that my breasts were swollen; a small curve had just barely broken the lines of my belly.

Inside was where the real change was taking place. I was stormy with emotion.

Then there was the arousal. It was a cruel joke, really. I found myself craving sex in a desperate way, as if I had an itch I need to scratch. That's where I was tonight, tired, restless in my bed.

I let my hands creep into my panties, closed my eyes—tried to remember the last time we'd made love.

_The Klingons were sending not-so-subtle messages about what they considered "Federation aggression." Spock and the Captain had disagreed on a patrol space and there was an air of annoyance between them._

_I knew he would be on the bridge and in conference with the Captain for several more hours after the shift. _

_I was on my way to sleep when I heard him slip into my quarters. Heard the sound of his clothes coming off._

_He was heavy and warm and naked when he slipped into bed beside me, fitted the length of his body against my back. _

_One hand traced the lines of my body under the covers while the other gathered my hair at the nape of my neck, swept it aside so he could kiss the exposed skin._

"_Nyota," he groaned. "I need you."_

_The tone of his voice sent a shiver up my spine. He cupped my rear end in his hand; let his fingers wander to the junction of my thighs. He pressed into it, silently begging for access._

_I gave it to him, opening my legs wide enough to allow him to push into me. He rocked forward to get deeper, moaned into my neck as he set a slow, torturous rhythm._

_My name was on his lips when he came, and I could feel his relief wash over me in waves._

His face was in my mind when I came—panting, exhausted, sweating.

It took me a moment to realize there were tears on my face.

***********


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: It's taken me some time to write this next chapter, and I apologize for the delay. I'm trying to be very careful with how this drama plays out! After some consideration, I thought it would be important to bring in Spock's POV on this story, so I've included that here. Really hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you think—good or bad!**

***************

I am struggling with violent desires. I want to track down the man who has forced such a repulsive indiscretion with my mate and choke him until I hear him wheeze his last desperate breath. I am certain I would derive pleasure from the physical act.

I am suspicious of anyone who lingers around her. Though we do not speak, I watch her every move. I see the men who appreciate her figure with furtive, sideways glances. The ones who stop at her table in the mess and invite themselves in to share a meal. I've always seen them. Now, I am fighting the urge to kill them.

The moment after she spoke of her condition, I felt sick in the physical sense. A strange sensation—a reaction that I shut down as quickly as I had come to recognize it. It took me but a fraction of a second to assess the situation and to issue a judgment. I knew what I knew because logic and reason are the absolutes. I locked down my mind like a fortress. Because it is the Vulcan way.

Now, Nyota and I are like moons of the same planet. Chasing, following one another—but never bridging the distance between us. She holds her head high when she is on the bridge, avoids me with such grace that our fellow crewmembers suspect nothing.

I will not admit to grief. I will not admit to feeling like a ship off course, on a mission gone awry. I report to duty and fulfill my obligations to Starfleet because I can do in my work what I cannot in my personal affairs.

And I will not admit that in the most private recesses of my mind, I entertain the idea that I could be wrong.

The thought sets me on edge. I am meditating with nearly every moment that I am not on duty, and I find that it still brings me no solace. There are two sides of me at war. The Vulcan half pushes me to trust the science I have been reared to respect. The Human half is like a thorn in my side, a throbbing pain warning that I have chosen the wrong path.

Because I know there is a flaw in my logic. She would gain nothing from such an elaborate deceit.

Still, I have to believe my judgment is right.

Because if I do not, the alternative is too painful.

************

The sickness shakes me out of my sleep, stuns me with its intensity. I'm barely awake when the first waves of nausea hit. My body is so weak I can't find strength in my legs, so I crawl to the bathroom on my hands and knees.

My throat is raw, stomach aching as I heave into the toilet. Mentally, I curse the prenatal vitamins I've been taking. Since Bones put me on the regimen, I feel weaker than I did before.

I am miserable, sagging against the cold porcelain, body wracked with chills despite the fact that I'm sweating. I have nothing left to give, and I'm still retching violently, knees tender on the cold, hard floor. I bite back tears, even though I am alone—because it seems like the right thing to do. I should be strong. This isn't the end of the world.

Still, I have to report to the bridge for duty in an hour and a half and for a moment, I consider contacting the Captain and telling him I can't be there—contacting Bones and asking him to kindly peel me off of the bathroom floor. But the heaving eventually stops, and I find that I can get on my feet long enough to get into the shower.

I let the water pound my face, grateful to feel clean, glad to wash away the sweat. My soapy hands slide up and down my sides, across my belly. I stare at it—imagine I'm staring at someone else. There is a disconnect between what is going on inside of my body and what is going on inside of my mind.

Then it hits me—really hits me that I am going to be a mother. The force of the realization is enough to make me sit down on the shower floor. I have no idea what I'm doing. I have no idea how I'll take care of a baby, what will happen to my career. And I certainly don't know how I'll do it alone.

I want him to crack. I want him to break the silence, to apologize and beg for forgiveness and promise me he'll spend the rest of his life making it up to me. For us—for this child.

But I know him and that isn't going to happen.

So I sit there—stroking my belly on the shower floor until the water runs cold. I can't predict what will happen to me in the months ahead. I can only control what is in front of me now.

***************

I'm still queasy when I step onto the bridge. I must look like shit because the Captain opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it. Let the record show that Jim Kirk opted not to be a pain in the ass when he could have been. He gets points for that.

For the first time in days, I see Spock turn to look at me as I assume my position at the console. I look away from him, suddenly very self-conscious at my appearance.

"Captain, I've prepared your reports and log," I say. My stomach lurches.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he says—and I feel him staring at me. The concern on his face is making me even more self-conscious. I feel as though the entire crew is watching me.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. I'm trying to distract myself, trying to lose myself in transmissions but I'm sweating again. My tongue feels thick in my mouth. I put a hand to my forehead and I'm on fire. There is no way I'm going to make it though this shift.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Spock turn in his chair to examine me. That makes me even more nauseous. My stomach is jumping violently now—mouth watering as I stand on shaky legs. I've got to get out of here before I puke on the bridge.

The Captain stands and now I'm not worried about what anyone thinks. I bend over at the waist; brace myself on the back of my chair. He's behind me now, hand on my arm.

"Uhura, you have to go to sickbay," he says firmly. I nod, afraid to open my mouth.

"Can you…stand?" he says, softly now. I can see that he is trying not to embarrass me anymore than I already am. And I don't know if I can stand, honestly. I shake my head no.

"Alert medical," he orders and I'm still bracing myself to the back of that chair. I turn my head to the side and see Spock at the Captain's side.

"She has to go _now_, Captain," he says. I'm spinning, dizzy, wobbling and still, I nearly laugh at Spock's sudden display of concern. Nice of you to notice.

"Try to stand for me, Lieutenant," Kirk orders. I take a deep breath, try to push my upper body off of the chair with what strength is left in my arms.

I rock back on my feet—then pass out.

************


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: You guys have been so great with the reviews—thank you so much. I'm glad you're liking it so far, and I hope this next chapter answers (a few?) of your questions. Please let me know what you think.**

************

I watch her fall to the floor, but I cannot move. I want to reach out to her, but I do not.

The Captain takes hold of Nyota, cradles her carefully, walks her off of the bridge. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I make out the sounds of the crew's concern. Then I hear the Captain's voice—ordering me to take the conn.

*************

I blink hard. It's so clean and bright in here I think I might get sick all over again. All I really want to do is curl up in a cool, dark room and sleep until I feel better. Whenever that is.

"Hey there…"

I swallow hard. My throat is on fire.

"…How you feelin'?"

There's something so comforting about McCoy's drawl. I'm relieved to be in sickbay.

"Terrible," I croak. My entire body is sore, like I've been in a bout with a heavyweight boxer and lost. I look at myself—tubes running out of my arms and into hanging bags. Whatever is going on, it's bad.

"Well, you look _great,_" he deadpans, and I hear him pull a stool to the side of my bed. He has a PADD in hand. I try to crack a smile but my mouth is so dry, it hurts.

"We need to talk."

The cheer in his voice is gone. I'm afraid because before he opens his mouth—I already know what he's going to say. He's not going to be happy with me.

"I need you to cut the proud and silent crap and be straightforward with me," he says, leaning close to me.

I nod.

"Can you explain to me why there is copper in your blood?" He touches the display next to my head and words and numbers I cannot crane my neck to read scroll onto the screen. He's frowning as he looks them over. He's not going to be happy with me at all. I say nothing because I'm not sure where to start.

"Okay then, I'll help you. Bones—there is copper in my blood because…" he starts.

I clear my throat.

"…Because my baby is Vulcan," I whisper. I wonder at myself—at the fact that I'm just now putting two and two together on how serious this is. I've been in a fog since he told me I was pregnant. How do I explain to Bones that I just realized that all of this is real?

"Yes, it is," he stands, hovers next to me, eyes still scanning his charts. He's definitely not happy. His face is a mix of concern—disappointment.

"I should have told you sooner," I say.

"Damn right you should have," he says, blowing out a breath. "I can't do my job unless you _let_ me do my job. You should have told me right away. You've got more goddamn sense than that, Uhura!"

He's pacing now, and I start to panic—because for once, I get the feeling that he's not sure what to do. Maybe he doesn't know how to fix me. I feel my eyes well with tears.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He demands. His frustration breaks me and I can feel the tears on my face now.

I want to say something, but I'm getting all worked up.

Instead, I get sick all over myself.

"Shit!"

He calls for nurses. They rush in to clean me up and I keep crying because it's coming naturally now. I'm so worn down I couldn't care less about keeping my composure or saving face. The nurses look sad for me, wiping me down, cleaning my face—changing my gown.

Once the smell is gone, I take a deep breath.

They leave me with a sick bag. Good idea. McCoy asks them to give us some privacy again.

"Dammit. I apologize," he says, running his fingers through his hair. "I just don't understand why you wouldn't say something—_anything_."

"I'm so sorry," I say, because I mean it and it's the only thing I can say at this point.

He sits down at my side.

"Spock…knows?" he says.

"Sort of," I say, and I cry even harder. This is just plain pitiful.

"Well, what the hell's that supposed to mean? Either he knows or he doesn't," he says, reaching for a hypo from the table next to me. He injects the liquid in it and I hope whatever it is, it will make me stop crying.

"For the nausea," he explains. Ah. No luck there.

"I…told him. He—didn't believe me," I stammer. I'm freezing now, shaking uncontrollably. He stands up to grab a blanket from the cabinet.

He covers me with it, tucking it underneath my sides like my mom used to do when I was a kid. Touches his hand to my forehead.

"Well, that's just plain stupid, sweetheart."

**************

The Captain has been gone for 10 minutes and 22 seconds. Lieutenant Hawkins has come onto the bridge to take Nyota's place. He is not as skilled as she with the Klingon language and I fear he will fail to intercept an important subspace transmission.

I am distracted, irritated. I want the Captain to come back and tell me Nyota's health is not in peril.

I stand on the bridge and watch the ships patrolling the edge of the Neutral Zone. A strike could come at any moment.

"I need to speak with you, Mr. Spock."

I hear him before I see him. He is walking toward the ready room and I follow him. He orders Helmsman Sulu to take the conn and orders the door shut and locked.

He sits in his chair, but I stand, hands locked behind my back. I brace myself for what I know is next.

"What the hell is going on with you and Uhura?"

"To what do you refer, Captain?"

"Don't feed me that horseshit, Spock. You _know_ I know something's going on. I have since long before you two started giving each other the cold shoulder. Now my best communications officer is laid up in sickbay—and only you know what's wrong with her."

"You do not bring word of her condition," I say flatly. He shakes his head.

"No, I don't have any idea what's going on. Bones looks pretty damn concerned. What the hell happened to her, Spock?"

His mention of the Doctor's concern for her makes my entire body tense. I look away from him to set my eyes on the stars.

"I am not at liberty to say, Captain."

He's angry with me.

"Look—I don't give a rat's ass what you two do on your off time, so long as it doesn't affect what happens on the bridge. But when my officer is suddenly deathly ill, and you two are obviously on the outs, you're the Vulcan I have questions for."

I should not be surprised that he has seen the tension between us. For all his bluster, Jim Kirk is perceptive, intelligent. Someone that I consider a friend, under less official circumstances.

"Captain, I cannot discuss the Lieutenant's personal affairs with you. I apologize."

**************

"I can't do anything about what's happening to you without help," he says, turns to face me, then suddenly looks away. "Unless you would consider…I mean, there are options."

"No."

I can't consider it. I don't know what I'm going to do about my situation, but I know that I can't consider what Bones is implying. I know he's only doing it because he's my doctor, but the thought makes me feel sick again.

"Then we have to talk to Spock. He's the only one who can find me the information I need," he says.

I can't answer. Fresh nausea hits me and I grab for my sick bag.

"Listen to me. I don't have the science I need to help you bring this baby to term. I don't even know if I could keep you alive for the next 8 months. I need you to start cooperating with me."

He looks tired. I wonder if his fatigue is at my hand alone, or if this is just part of a longer day that I've managed to make worse.

"There isn't any…medical journal on something like this?" I ask weakly.

"No, there isn't," he says. "Vulcans aren't exactly known for being forthright about their private shit."

I pull the blanket around me tighter; ignore the pain in my arm from the IV. I know what I have to do.

He's the only one who can help me and our child's life is at stake.

So be it. This isn't just about me anymore.

************


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: You guys are awesome! I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the reviews and the favorites. I'm so glad you all have stuck around with this story long enough to watch it unfold. Here is the next chapter. *Some* insight into Spock, but the next chapter will give us more. Again, your reviews (good or bad) are appreciated!**

***********

My shift ended one hour and nine minutes ago, but I cannot leave the bridge. Retiring to my quarters now would afford me too much time to be alone with my thoughts. So I stay—long after the Captain has gone and the Gamma shift crew is in place.

I do it because I cannot bear to focus solely on what is happening to Nyota beyond the walls of sickbay.

I recognize my cowardice and the taste is bitter in my mouth. I cannot discern which prospect unnerves me more—the possibility that Nyota is suffering the repercussions of her own betrayal, or the possibility that she is suffering the repercussions of mine.

A communications Lieutenant I am not familiar with breaks my thoughts.

"Commander, you are needed in sickbay."

My muscles constrict and contract.

************

Dr. Leonard McCoy is brooding, morose when I arrive. This disposition would not be unusual on any other day, as he and I have discovered through trial and error that our communication styles are not well suited to one another. But this is not any other day, and there is no mistaking the anger on the Doctor's face.

"Doctor McCoy. Is there word of the Lieutenant's health?"

"Oh yeah, there's word, alright. Nurse Stanislaw, take a break, would you?"

The young woman is charting and seems taken aback by the Doctor's request. She eyes both of us suspiciously, but follows orders.

"Please, Commander—my office," McCoy motions to a small, neat room.

I follow him and he orders the door shut, locked.

"Doctor—what of the Lieutenant?" I repeat myself, when I am fully aware that he has already heard me. My body crackles with nervous energy.

He sits on the edge of his desk, arms crossed across his body.

"Oh, so you're concerned about her health _now_?"

I suppress a growl.

"Doctor McCoy, the _only _thing I wish to discuss is the Lieutenant's health." I force my words through gritted teeth.

He mumbles a profanity under his breath.

"Alright, then. She's sick as hell. Pregnant. But you already know that don't you?"

My heart rate increases.

"I am aware of her condition, yes."

"Yeah, well her _condition_ has everything to do with you, _Commander_."

He spits the words at me. I steel myself because I know what is next. Confirmation of the fear buried deep within my psyche.

"She went to you. She told you she was pregnant with _your_ baby and you denied it!"

The hairs on the back of my neck stand at end.

"It is—not entirely biologically possible—"

"Not entirely? Are you serious right now? You made her out to be a liar because you, in your divine wisdom, decided that it wasn't _entirely _possible? That's a shitty gamble, Commander. You lost."

"I—" I stumble in complete incompetence.

"You called her a goddamn liar."

I feel shame at his words, palpable—suffocating. It's so powerful that I do not speak.

"Alright, since you're so damn smart and you need to have the facts, here they are: Uhura is two months pregnant with your child. And because the baby is _Vulcan_, well, a quarter anyway, she's getting sick from the copper in her bloodstream. She's being _poisoned_ from the inside-out. Your child is poisoning her."

The weight of his words crushes me. Poison. My child is poisoning her.

"I need to see her," I say, after a moment.

"Well, I can't make that choice for her, Commander. I don't know when she'll want to see you, but I wouldn't be too surprised if she isn't jumping at the chance. I'd probably slap you around myself if I didn't have to ask for your help."

"Anything." I feel my hands tremble, clasp them together behind my back.

"Find someone to help her. I don't give a shit who or what it is, so long as they figure out how to help me. I'll take anything I can get at this point."

His tone has changed. The anger is not as prominent as the worry. The muscles in my legs start to shake, but I will not take a seat. I lock my knees to stay upright.

"I will...stop at nothing to find her help, Doctor McCoy."

I must. Everything else is now trivial.

He stands, turns his back to me, looks out the window of his office.

"Time is of the essence, Commander. I don't know where we stand in this process. All I can tell you is that she's falling apart, fast. She's losing weight because she can't keep anything down, and she's too weak to do this for much longer. I need you to find me someone who can help her and I need you to do it yesterday."

I feel impotent for not having the answer, for not trusting the only woman who ever meant anything to me. For denying the child in her womb that is killing her.

"Doctor—" I falter. "—I did not believe the child was biologically possible." My excuse is weak, and I hate the sound of it. Apparently, so does McCoy.

"That's because you think you know everything. And guess what? You don't."

There is truth in his judgment. I have failed Nyota for ego--pride.

McCoy stands and runs his hands through his hair.

"I mean, come on—did you really believe she would lie to you? About something like this? Look, I'm not going to pretend that I know her like you do, but I know her. And I would never peg Uhura for someone capable of something like that."

No. Nyota is noble. And I am a fool.

"I am at a loss for words, Doctor. My failure is great."

"Damn right it is. But it'll be a hell of a lot worse if you don't find her some help."

*************

I am slipping in and out of sleep when I hear someone enter. I hurt too much to turn towards the door, so I lie still.

My mind is a fog but slowly I realize that Bones is still here—how long has he been here? How long have I been here? It feels like days but I'm so disoriented I can't be sure.

He leans over my bed in the dark. I open my eyes to show him that I'm awake.

"Hey there," he puts his hand to my forehead again. He's got me hooked up to so many machines that I know he's not taking my temperature. He's trying to comfort me.

"Hey," I groan.

"How is the pain right now? From 1 to 10?"

"8. Definitely 8."

He sighs and sits next to me.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo. You know I can't give you anything. This situation is just too delicate."

I'm sorry, too. What I would really like is for him to put me in a medically-induced coma until he can find me some help. Wake me up when it's over, please.

"Yeah, I know. Can I have some water?" My throat is itchy and dry. He grabs a cup and lifts the straw to my mouth, and I crane my neck to meet him halfway.

"I talked to Spock."

I cough violently and the water dribbles down my chin. He wipes it away without thought.

"And?" I prompt him even though I'm not sure if I have the energy to hear what he's about to say. I settle my head back into the pillow and brace myself.

"He's trying to find a Vulcan doctor. Someone who can help us."

Us. That's nice to hear. Somehow, I feel as though Bones is just as much a part of this as I am. It makes me feel better.

I find myself imagining Spock's face, his words, his demeanor during their conversation. Is he contrite?

Bones must be reading my mind, because he addresses my innermost concern.

"I really can't speak on the whole…you know, whatever it is you two have going on. He looked pretty upset with himself. Pretty unusual for a stony guy like him."

He wipes off my brow with a cool cloth and I know that most of his patients don't get this kind of bedside care. He usually lets his nurses take care of the minutia. I'm grateful now for his friendship almost as much as I am grateful for his medical expertise.

Fresh tears fall.

"Hey. Hey, it's going to be alright, okay? Listen, Spock's a smart guy and I know he can find someone who can help. Don't get yourself worked up. Help is on the way."

I nod.

"Did he...ask to see me?" I ask, because I need to know. I need to know that there is still some part of Spock that gives a shit if I live or die with his child inside of me.

I need to know that there is a part of him that feels some remorse.

"Yeah, he did. But I told him that you would be the one to decide when you were ready. I don't want him making you feel worse, not now."

"Thank you," I say, and I turn my head in the pillow and shut my eyes.

Long after he leaves, the tears are still falling.

**********


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Good grief, I struggled with this chapter! I must have scrapped it three times, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it. But…I'm working on the next, which I hope will be better. Again, I can't thank you all enough for the reviews and favorites. You guys make writing the best hobby there is.**

**************

"Peace and long life, son. Your call is rather unexpected."

My father is dressed in mediation robes. He is unnerved by my interruption.

"Peace and long life, father. I apologize for the hurried nature of this call, but I seek your help on a matter that cannot wait."

He processes my words, scrutinizes the lines of my face. "You are unsettled."

It is not a question.

Unsettled is too rudimentary a word to describe my state. I am drowning in the wake of perhaps the most destructive decision I have ever made.

"I ask the immediate assistance of healers. For…Nyota."

His lips thin.

"Nyota. She is your Human companion…yes?"

I nod, slowly, and feel a pain pulse through my chest. That statement was true at one time. I cannot be sure of it anymore.

"Tell me Spock, why does a Human require the assistance of a Vulcan healer?"

I am silent for a moment. I wonder if the shame I feel inside is manifesting itself on my face.

"She…carries my child, father."

My father, unerringly impassive, surprises me with a rare display of emotion. For a moment, his eyes are wide with astonishment. He stifles it almost as quickly as I recognize it.

"I see. There are complications, I assume."

"Yes. Her health, our child's health is in peril. Her doctor has exhausted his expertise. Now I must seek assistance on New Vulcan. I—"

I pause, clear my throat even as I can feel it tighten.

"—I have no other recourse."

"You have my help, son. I will arrange for the healers immediately. Send word with your travel arrangements."

I release a breath.

"Thank you, father. Live long and prosper."

"Live long and prosper, Spock."

**************

I arrive, unannounced at the Captain's quarters. He is not agreeable to a meeting at this hour, but I have no choice.

His eyes are swollen, voice rough with sleep when he lets me in.

"Spock—this better be good." He takes a seat, and I follow suit.

"I must request immediate personal leave of an unspecified length. I am not sure when I will return."

He sighs, rubs his hands across his eyes.

"Shit. What is this is all about?"

"Lieutenant Uhura's health is…deteriorating. Doctor McCoy and I must take her to New Vulcan to consult with healers."

That seems to wake him up.

"Wait a minute. Why does she have to go to _New Vulcan_? You know I can't afford to lose this many officers, not at a time like this."

He looks pained. I owe Jim an explanation.

"She is pregnant with our child," I say. He whistles.

"Holy shit. Okay. So she needs some special kind of Vulcan voodoo doctor or something?"

"_Something_ like that Jim, yes."

"Wait, so if she's pregnant with your baby, then why the hell have you two been avoiding each other like the plague?"

I am instantly uncomfortable, clear my throat. "I was not aware that I could father children, Jim."

"But you did."

I look away from him.

"I—denied the possibility."

"You…denied fathering her baby?" He looks confused. I nod.

"Well, what the hell did you do that for?"

"I cannot explain that at this time, Jim. It was…an unusual set of circumstances."

"Wow. Yeah, that's…that's—yeah. It all makes sense, now. You…are going to try and make things work, right?"

"I will do everything I can, Jim. At this time, I am not sure of how to right this wrong. It seems…insurmountable."

I speak the words and then I feel them, feel the cold grip of anxiety.

"Apologize early and often, Spock. Show her that you mean it. And if you're lucky, she'll come around. If she doesn't, then you'll just have to live with that. Personal leave granted."

**************

In two hours, preparations for the transport ship will be complete. Doctor McCoy and I will take Nyota to New Vulcan to seek the help she needs.

Until then, I sit in the darkness of my quarters and mourn.

I take a drink of water from the cool glass in my hands; try to regain my calm. But my mind is frenetic, processing the events happening around me—_because_ of me.

Nyota is ill.

Our child is ill.

I am responsible.

In the moments following the destruction of my home planet, Nyota was at my side. I was despondent with the loss of my mother and the loss of my cultural identity.

I needed her in way that I failed to articulate—in a way that in her own quiet wisdom, she already understood. I used her patience, passion, and understanding like a salve. And she gave it selflessly.

She is the only person I have allowed into my mind, completely.

_Four Months Earlier_

"_I wish everyone could see the real you."_

_I was on my back, Nyota covering my side, walking her fingers up and down my chest. I took her hand, brought it to my lips and kissed it. She smiled at that._

"_There is only one 'me', Nyota," I teased, even though I understood her meaning. She sighed._

"_No, there isn't. There's the 'you' that's outside of these walls. Rigid and driven and unshakable. But then there's the 'you' I see when we're alone." _

_She crawled up my body to kiss my face. I closed my eyes._

"_I do not… understand why others would need to see the private side of me." _

"_Because it makes you vulnerable? More Human?" She asked, wrapping her fingers around mine. I nodded._

"_Your mother was Human, Spock. And so are you, in part. You shouldn't try to push that part of yourself away."_

The memory of my mother throbs in my mind. I miss her, and yet, at this time I am relieved that she is not here to bear witness to my failings.

Perhaps more destructive than anger, or pain, is disappointment.

She would be disappointed with me right now. I am disappointed with myself.

The glass in my hand shatters under the weight of my disgust.

***************

It's getting harder and harder for me to stay awake. Which is good and bad, really.

When I'm awake, the aching is all-consuming, torturous. I'm half-mad with pain.

I try not to roll about in my bed, try not to disrupt the sophisticated network of tubes that run in and out of me. But when I'm awake, and fully aware of what's happening to me, it's almost too much to bear.

I spend the few minutes of consciousness I have praying for deliverance from this feeling.

People have been in and out of my room for hours. I hear them talking, whispering, and moving things but I'm too tired and too delirious to ask why.

"Uhura," I hear Bones whisper my name, force my eyes open.

"What is going on?" I croak. My lips are dry, my throat is dry. He brings me some water.

"We're taking you to get some help. On New Vulcan. Transport ship is almost ready. We leave within the hour."

"Do they know how to help me?" I ask.

"I hope so," he says, stroking my hair. "It's our best shot."

"Listen, I know there's a lot of shit going on with you and Spock. But I have to tell you, he's coming with us."

I let my eyes shut again, feel tears start to well.

"I'm sorry, Uhura. I had to ask for his help, and he's been racing around trying to coordinate all of this. I'm going to be watching you like a hawk, okay? If it gets to be too much, you can let me know and we'll dump him off on some trash planet."

I smile despite myself. I want so badly to be angry with Spock right now, but I don't have it in me. I want to stay alive, I want this baby to stay alive, and I'll do what it takes to make sure that happens. Of course, it's more complicated than just that. I want to see him for myself.

"Okay," I say.

Distantly, I hear noises as nurses wheel in a portable biobed.

**************


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Okay, New Vulcan time. I tried to come up with some Vulcan names, but they all sounded hokey…so, the Vulcans in this story shall remain nameless. Otherwise, I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter. Help is finally on the way, and Spock is going to get his mojo back. Please let me know what you think!**

**************

Doctor McCoy briefs me on her condition. Her organs are already starting to show signs of distress. She cannot maintain consciousness for an extended period of time. Armed with that information, I steel myself for the worst.

Still, I am not prepared for the sight of her.

At the center of the biobed, she is still, eyes closed. Her body is thin—much too thin. Her skin is tinged yellow with the onset of jaundice.

Mental and physical exhaustion radiate from her in a slow pulse.

I cover the distance between us in two strides, but McCoy puts a hand up to stop me. I take a deep breath to suppress my anger.

"Easy, killer. She's delicate and I've got to get her situated."

McCoy drops a tool and it clangs loudly inside the ship. Nyota groans at the disturbance and I step closer.

She blinks hard. Looks directly at me—into me—then turns away.

I have prepared myself for her disdain. Still, the sting of it surprises me.

**************

Well, at least he has the decency to look like shit.

He's as distressed, uncomfortable, and unkempt as I've ever seen him. His body is tense; eyes tired when Bones gets me into the transport ship.

I get what I want, a glimpse of him. Seeing him makes my heart pound.

But most of all, it makes me remember how angry I am, angry enough to crawl out of this biobed and scratch his eyes out.

Of course, I'm in no state to do that, so I do what I can—turn away from him and shut my eyes.

"Is she stable enough for transport?" he asks.

"It's a better option than letting her sit here and waste away, don't you think?"

I don't smile, but I'm thinking it.

**************

When I come to again, the transporter is silent and dark. I can tell we're traveling.

My hands fumble blindly around the edge of my blanket as I try to get my bearings. The disorientation is making me nauseous again.

I feel him take my hand.

He leans in close and I can smell him, warm and musky. It's the same smell I always cherished in the sheets after we made love, it's the same smell in his shirts when I would slip them over my head and hope he wouldn't notice when they turned up missing.

I flinch, and pull my hand away.

"Nyota, I am sorry. I am foolish and I am sorry."

He whispers it, and I know he's close because I can feel his breath on my ear. But his voice sounds far away in my head, as if he's standing at the end of a tunnel stretching for miles.

I'm in too much pain to answer, or move, so I don't. He doesn't try to take my hand again, but he's still warm at my side.

"I am sorry for—everything. I cannot—express…I cannot—explain my actions, Nyota."

My heart starts pounding inside my chest like a jackhammer and I hear an alarm go off.

For a minute, I think I'm imagining the sound, but Bones jumps up from where he's been sleeping and pushes Spock away. His fingers fly across the monitor at the side of my bed and the alarm goes silent.

"That's enough. Let her rest."

**************

"Give it a break, Commander. This isn't the time for you to try and stage your big comeback, okay?"

Nyota has slipped back into sleep and Doctor McCoy is pacing the floor of the ship.

I am simultaneously worried about her and angry at him.

"This is the first opportunity I have had to speak with her, Doctor. You cannot expect me to stand by without _speaking to her_," I growl.

"I get it, you need to apologize. But right now, I'm worried about her, okay? My job is to keep her stable until we get to the doctors you have lined up. If her heart rate is all over the place—or her blood pressure is going through the roof—well then that ain't stable, you got it?"

I understand. But understanding brings me no relief.

*************

_New Vulcan_

We arrive on New Vulcan. Nyota has not woken in 36 hours and 19 minutes.

Despite its similar climate, atmosphere and landscape, this place is foreign to me.

This is not my home planet.

My father is waiting when we step off of the ship. Doctor McCoy, never one to abide by rules of formality, questions him at once. I stand next to the biobed and shield Nyota's face from the harsh sun.

"Where are these healers and how fast can you get us there?"

I assume he is annoyed Doctor's direct address, but he does not reveal it.

"The healers are inside our family home. She will be treated there."

I am taken aback. My father has arranged for healers to see to Nyota's care inside the privacy and comfort of his home, and for that I am indebted. It is a quiet, generous display.

"Thank you, Father," I manage. He merely nods in acknowledgement.

"Come at once."

**************

A room in the east wing of this house has been prepared. Three healers are inside, inexpressive as McCoy wheels her into the room.

They are elders, each hundreds of years old, dressed in traditional robes. The one who appears to be the eldest steps forward to speak.

"Your human, she is quite unwell."

Her voice is as paper-thin as the skin on her hands. My father stands silent, watching us closely. McCoy is tense, mashing his lips together as if to keep from speaking.

"She is. We seek any help that you can provide," I am careful to keep my voice even and purge the frustration that could color it.

"Her condition is not…unexpected. Human physiologies are well-known to be weak," she says.

Her condescension does not go unnoticed. I clasp my hands behind my back.

"Seek her mind," she orders, and the healers move to Nyota's side, place their hands on her face and womb. She does not respond to their touch.

"Spock…" the eldest keeps her eyes on me even as I keep my eyes on Nyota. I feel the intensity of her stare.

"…have you such disdain for your own people?" The hairs on the back of my neck stand, but I refuse to let my eyes leave Nyota.

"All Vulcans are working to rebuild our race. We have come together in a time of unprecedented need to do what we must to preserve our great heritage. But not you. You choose a Human mate, and create a life that only serves to dilute your genetic legacy. Have you that strong a distaste for the blood that runs through your veins?'

My concentration, stretched thin like a rope, snaps. I growl low in my throat. I see McCoy in my peripheral vision step close to me. He reaches out to put a hand on my arm, but I throw it off.

"Enough."

My father's voice punctures the building fury.

"We will help this Human woman. Is there a course of treatment that can save her life and the child's?"

One of the healers standing over Nyota speaks.

"It is possible. We must remove her blood, cleanse it, and replace it simultaneously."

McCoy speaks for the first time.

"You mean dialysis? Yeah, yeah, we can do that. That could really work."

*************


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Here is another chapter! Alright, so I use the "L" word in this chapter, and from reading other fics I know some people think you shouldn't use it in reference to Spock…but…I'm taking my cues here from the film. **

**I've been getting some great feedback from all of you, and it has really helped me shape this story. Again, thanks so much for reading and reviewing. Please let me know what you think. **

************

I pull McCoy aside.

"You can perform a hemodialysis here?" I say, keeping my voice low. He rubs a hand across the stubble that now lines his jaw.

"I…could. Studied it in medical school. Assisted on a few. It's just that—you know, that was a long time ago. I'd have to brush—"

"There is no need." The eldest healer interrupts McCoy and my annoyance flares anew.

"We will perform the cleansing."

"Yeah well, you perform it, and I oversee it," McCoy says, squaring his shoulders and staring the woman down. "I'm her _doctor_."

She narrows her eyes at him.

"The cleansing is not the only facet of her care, _doctor_. We will give her traditional Vulcan medicines in order to assist in the cleansing. Surely you did not study these remedies in your _medical school_?" She raises an eyebrow.

I hear him curse under his breath.

"Whatever. Do whatever you have to do, but you run it by me first."

"Very well, then," the healer moves slowly across the room. The others follow her. My father moves with them to see them out.

She stops for a moment.

"Watch her closely. We will return shortly and begin."

**************

McCoy starts moving immediately after the healers leave.

"I've got to put in a feeding tube. Gotta get nutrition in her somehow."

I look at the tubes already networked into Nyota's body. The thought of adding another is excruciating. She is overwhelmed.

"My medical training is perfunctory, at best. Nevertheless, I am at your disposal for any assistance that you may require."

He stops adjusting the side of the biobed and looks me in the eye.

"Thanks," he says, and I understand that his acknowledgement is sincere.

I walk to Nyota, put my hand on her face. She is so incredibly still that I imagine for a moment that she is a statue.

McCoy interrupts my thought.

"So…uh, what are you going to do when this is all over? I mean, what if this works? She wakes up, has your baby, then what?"

I take her limp hand in mine.

"Then I will take care of her, Doctor. I will see to it that my—"

I catch myself.

"—that Nyota and our child are well cared for."

He reaches into his supply box to pull out the feeding tube.

"You do it together? Alone? What if she wants nothing to do with you? You couldn't blame her after…all this, you know?"

I know all too well.

"I will see to it that their needs are met."

It is futile at this point to imagine what will become of our relationship when—_if, _I remind myself_—_she and our child make it through this trial.

Pondering the outcome is useless. I must focus my energy on ensuring their survival.

*****************

"You must leave us."

The healers have returned with machines and materials they will use on Nyota.

"I would prefer to stay," I snap. The edge in my voice surprises me.

The elder dismisses me with a wave of her hand and McCoy makes a face that I interpret as sympathetic.

"Your preference is not my concern, Spock. The Doctor has made it clear that he will not leave because he is responsible for her care. You, however, are not. Take leave so that we may begin the cleansing."

Her words are sharp—a stark contrast to the soft, sagging lines of her face.

Anger races up my spine. I take a step towards the healer, but McCoy stops me.

"It's okay. I'll make sure she's okay. Go on," he says.

I stare coldly at the healer before deferring to McCoy, and walk out of the room.

**************

This house is not the house of my childhood. My father's artwork is gone. My mother's garden no longer exists. The reminder of her is a dull pain in my chest.

I memorize the layout as I walk the halls; find my father in a large room on the east end.

He looks up from the monitor at his desk.

"Come in, Spock."

I clasp my hands behind my back as I take in my father's private study. It is clean and sleek, befitting a man of his stature and nature.

But there is one aspect of this private room that does not speak of my father's interests.

A bookcase.

I walk to it, run my fingers along the spines of the books that neatly line the shelves.

_Wuthering Heights, The Scarlet Letter, To Kill A Mockingbird_. My mother's favorite novels.

These are not the copies she worried lovingly between her fingers when she read.

Those are gone—vaporized along with every artifact of our lives that existed before the annihilation of my planet.

"They are—one small way I remember her," he says, standing from his desk.

He crosses the room to stand beside me.

"Your mother once told me she lost herself in these books, in these pages. She did not think it illogical to read the same text over and over again. I admit now that I did not understand it then."

I look at him carefully. He is somehow less severe than I remember him.

"What of Nyota?"

I shake my head.

"I do not know. The healers asked me to leave while they perform the cleansing," I say, taking a seat in a chair.

He nods.

"Do not be troubled at their request for privacy. It is for the best," he says.

He looks at me closely.

"Your fatigue is evident, Son. Perhaps you should use this time to rest."

"No," I say bluntly.

He sighs.

"Very well, then. Tell me more about your Nyota," he says.

I breathe deeply.

"She is… highly intelligent, independent, and strong—" I start. My throat tightens.

"—And I love her."

The word should be foreign to me. There is no equivalent in Vulcan, and still it seems the most appropriate way to describe how I feel.

I am acutely aware at this moment that I have never spoken these words to Nyota. It is now entirely possible that I may never have the chance.

My father touches his fingers together.

"I know you do."

He stands and walks to the window of his study and looks out across the rocky terrain.

"I see much of myself in you, Spock. I see how you look at this woman, and I am reminded of your mother. Of what I felt for her."

"You told me once that you loved her," I say.

"I did. The tragedy of that admission is that I did not say it to your mother as often as she deserved."

I see my father as never before—vulnerable, frank.

"You are capable of caring for Nyota properly, Spock. Do not allow your predilection for logic to derail you from satisfying her emotional needs. You will live to regret it."

"I already have," I say softly.

He turns to me, eyebrow raised.

I swallow thickly.

"I did not believe Nyota when she told me she carried my child. I denied her and then I left her."

My hands are trembling and I clasp them together.

"You believed a child was not possible because of your mother's trouble conceiving?" he asks.

I nod, weakly.

"That is a grave error, indeed." He takes his seat again, faces me.

"It is true, your mother and I experienced difficulty conceiving you. We sought the guidance of healers and after many years, you were born. But you must understand that your circumstances are different, Spock. You are half-Human. That singular fact changes the science of conception entirely. Your biochemistry is more suitable to hers than mine to your mother's."

He pauses.

"And life is a fascinating thing, Spock. It always finds a way."

I recognize that he is not only speaking of our child. He is speaking of the rebuilding of our race.

He clears his throat.

"What is done is done, but that does not mean that all is lost. You love this woman. Now you must show her."

***************

I sit directly outside of Nyota's room.

The healers and Doctor McCoy have been working inside for 6 hours and 11 minutes. I am physically and mentally worn.

When the door cracks open, I bolt upright and shake my head as if to clear my mind. McCoy emerges.

"Hey, how you holding up out here?" he asks.

"I am fine. How is she?" I ask, straining to see inside the room through the crack in the door.

"I don't know," he runs his hands through his hair.

"They've been running this cleansing for hours. They've also got me supplying her some brown mixture of Vulcan medicine. Looks gross. They won't explain exactly what it is, but I figure you trust these people, right?"

"When can I see her?"

"Maybe in a few minutes. They tell me they're coming back every day to do it all over again until we see some progress."

He turns to walk back into the room, but stops.

"And by the way, really pleasant bunch in there. They make you look like a goddamn party animal."

****************

2 hours and 7 minutes more pass and they allow me into the room. The healers walk past me without a word. I am unbothered by their snub.

McCoy is reading the monitor at the side of her bed. He turns when he hears my footsteps behind him.

"Too soon to tell how well this is working, but I am seeing a little less stress on her liver and kidneys," he says. "We'll just keep at it until we get the results we need."

I move to stand behind her. Her outward appearance is unchanged.

McCoy rubs his hands across his eyes. He is exhausted. I know that he has only been able to rest for a few minutes at a time over the last few days.

"Get some rest, Doctor," I say. "I will stay here with her and watch over her. If there is any change in her condition, I will come for you at once," I say.

McCoy blows out a breath.

"Yeah, I've got to get some sleep or I won't be any good to her anyway."

He stands.

"Anything, anything at all—come get me."

"Yes, of course."

When he leaves, I realize that Nyota and I are alone for the first time since she told me about our child.

I stroke the side of her face slowly and wonder if she is aware of me.

"I love you, Nyota," I tell her for the first time. I will do it every day until I know that she hears me. And I will do it every day after that.

I pull a chair to the side of her bed, sit down and fall asleep with my hand on hers.

***************


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sorry for the long delay, ya'll. Took me a while to get this chapter together. The next few chapters are going to be a little more rapid-fire, few months at a time, so hopefully this one isn't too slow! **

**Please let me know what you think, I've gotten some great feedback from you guys. **

***************

Four more days pass with little change in Nyota's condition. Each comes and goes in the same manner.

The healers come for Nyota, spend hours performing the cleansing.

I spend my hours reading, studying—trying to distract myself while thinking of her, of our child.

My patience is tested every moment I am not privy to her care and condition.

When the healers they leave, Doctor McCoy briefs me on her treatment, because he has access to what I do not.

At night, I rest at her side.

****************

_I can hear my baby crying. _ _I squint against the sun and make out the shape of my child._

_She's floating out in the ocean on a piece of driftwood. She's terrified and I'm terrified._

_I don't have to think about my next move. I'm in the water, swimming as hard and as fast as I can._

_But my arms and legs are getting tired. _

_I'm getting closer to her cries, but I don't think I can make it. _

_I fall below the waves, and water rushes into my lungs. _

_I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe._

I can't breathe.

It isn't a thought so much as a knee-jerk reaction. I'm trying to catch my breath, but there's something in my way.

"She's awake."

McCoy's voice. I know its McCoy's voice, but that's all I can be sure of. I'm panicking, struggling against the tubes and blankets that keep me anchored to this biobed.

"Hey…hey now, it's okay. Calm down for me. Relax."

I make out his shape as he stands over me, starts to pull at the tube lodged deep in my throat. It comes out through my nose and it makes my eyes sting.

But I can breathe.

He stands there, stroking the side of my face as I take in as much air as I can. Let it out slowly. Feel my heart start to calm.

"Can you get her some water?" he asks, and I turn my head and see women, Vulcan women, staring at me. Their faces are blank, wrinkled canvases with deep-set dark eyes that instantly make me uncomfortable.

Is this a hospital?

"…The baby," I croak.

"The baby's vitals have been up and down with yours. So this right here—this is good. This is real good," he smiles, helps me take a drink of water.

Warm relief spreads through my body, fingers to toes.

"Tell me about how you feel."

I move slightly, gingerly, and I can tell I'm stiff and sore.

"I…don't know," I say. "Tender all over. How long have I been out?"

"Almost a week. We couldn't wake you up on the transport. You've been under since we brought you here and started the dialysis."

I look down at my arms and frown at the tubes that run from fresh ports into a machine at my bedside.

"Those are going to have to stay in for a while, hon," McCoy shoots me a sympathetic smile and I glance over at the Vulcans who stand stock-still in one corner of this large room.

I whisper. "Who are…?"

McCoy clears his throat.

"Vulcan healers. Ambassador Sarek set us up with them. This is his house, actually. You're getting the red carpet treatment," he says.

Ambassador Sarek's home. Vulcan healers, caring for me inside his home.

Spock.

I urge the corners of my mouth up into a tight smile for the healers, but they ignore it.

**************

It is long, too long before the women are satisfied with the day's cleansing. They say nothing to me, but they hand me things to drink and watch me closely as McCoy records my vitals. The silence in the air is thick, but it doesn't seem to bother any of them.

The moment they are gone, he is there.

He surprises me by ignoring McCoy entirely, locking eyes on me as if Bones isn't even in the room.

Seeing him is like a punch to the gut.

"Nyota."

He looks more handsome than I remember in a lightweight shirt and pants.

I entertain vanity for a moment and wonder how I must look right now. It's been far too long since I had a shower, and I know without running my hands through my hair that it's a mess.

Then I remember that I hate him right now, and shouldn't give a shit about what he thinks.

McCoy clears his throat uncomfortably.

"You two…need a moment?" he says, shuffling slightly towards the door.

"Yes."

"No."

We answer at the same time. He shuffles back.

******************

I want McCoy to leave, but she asks him to stay.

My throat is tight with anxiety. I now know, quite literally, the sense of swallowing one's pride.

"Nyota, I am so sorry. Please forgive me." I say, taking a seat at her bedside. She turns away from me.

"I…don't want to do this right now, Spock," her voice is low, dripping with warning.

"I will not push you, Nyota. I just need you to know how sorry I am. I cannot imagine…"

I stop for a moment to compose myself.

"…what I mean to say is that, should something happen to you, or our child…"

She turns to face me, eyes blazing with anger.

"_Our _child? Is that what it is now? How convenient."

Her words are sharp, but I cannot deny their truth. I will take her punishment without protest.

"I will do whatever it takes to make this right, Nyota. Anything."

I am uncomfortable having this conversation in front of Doctor McCoy, but she has given me no choice.

"Anything?" she says, and I nod.

"Then leave."

*****************

I feel a twinge of guilt when I see hurt flicker over his face, but I ignore it because anger is easier. Without my anger, I am raw—as if every one of my nerve endings is exposed.

I need my anger for protection.

He stands, moves to leave but then hesitates—turns back to me.

"Nyota, I love you," he says quietly.

My breath catches.

"Just go."

*****************

Bones looks relieved when Spock grants my wish.

"You okay?"

"You tell me," I snap.

"You know what I mean, smartass."

"Sorry, I'm just a little wound up," I admit. "I don't mean to take it out on you. I just want to know more about…whatever is happening to me."

He pulls out a PADD.

"So far, the cleansing is doing its job. Copper levels in your system are lower. Bad news is that you're going to have to stay on dialysis for the rest of your pregnancy. We'll have to figure out how often you'll need it…"

Frowning, I touch the tubes in my arm. They feel like chains.

"…Baby's vitals are stronger, improved when yours did. It's really too early to tell how much damage there is to your organs. Your weight has stabilized, but at this point, I really need you to start putting some more on."

"When can I get out of this bed?" I say.

"Not sure. I need you to take it easy. I can't have you overdoing it just because you feel better."

That is not the answer I want. He sees the disappointment in my face.

"Just try and relax. Get some sleep tonight, and we'll see if we can move you in the morning, okay? I can't promise anything."

That's good enough for me.

****************

The room is still and dark when I come to again.

My back is aching after so many hours in this bed, in this position. I try to push myself up on my forearms, try to get some leverage so I can get comfortable, but I can't. I have no strength.

I feel him before I see him, one arm looping under my back, the other slipping a pillow underneath me. It helps take some of the pressure off of my lower back and the relief is almost instantaneous.

"Is this…more comfortable?" he whispers.

I try to ignore the feel of his hands on me, the flip-flop in my stomach.

"Yes," I say. "Thank you."

"Do you need anything else?" he asks.

I clear my throat.

"No, I don't think so."

"Okay," he says, and I see him take a seat in a chair near the foot of my bed.

"How long have you been sitting there?" I ask.

"All night. Every night. I stay with you so Doctor McCoy can get some rest. And I stay with you because…I miss you."

I'm grateful for the dark. Glad he can't see the tears that spring to my eyes. I want to tell him that I miss him, too, but I don't.

I can't.

***************


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This next chapter takes place over several weeks—even a month jump here. So I really hope you guys like it. I'm pretty proud of myself for turning another chapter so quickly!**

**Thanks again for all of the reviews, alerts and favorites. Hope this chapter delivers!**

**************

McCoy makes good on his promise to let me out of bed. He tells me that my vitals are stable enough, my jaundice has cleared, and he thinks it will do me some good to get some exercise.

The healers won't return until I need another cleansing in a few days, and that makes me feel better. I don't care to be stared at like an animal at the zoo.

"You come out of this bed on a few conditions. You listening?"

I nod, eagerly.

"You wear this—" he adheres a patch with sensors to my arm.

"—at all times. This monitors your vitals, the baby's vitals, and if anything goes out of whack, it sounds an alarm. You overexert yourself, and this thing is going to go off. _Don't_ make it go off."

He wants to sound gruff with me, but I know better. He's in a good mood.

Spock, on the other hand, is quiet. He watches closely as Bones takes the tubing out of my arms.

"You haven't used your legs in a while, and they aren't going to make it easy on you at first. Don't try too much at once. Baby steps, got it?"

"Got it."

I swing my legs around; let them dangle over the side of the biobed. I flex my calves and they are stiff, sore.

And apparently they are also useless, because the moment I lock my knees and push off the bed, both of my legs give way like limp noodles.

I crumple and Spock catches me in between his body and the biobed. He pins me in place, gently lifts me at the waist and sets me back onto the bed.

The blow to my pride is swift.

My face flushes with embarrassment. Helplessness is not a feeling I handle particularly well.

"It's alright, try it again," Bones prods.

I want to, but now I am unsure of myself. My self-esteem wounded by my first faulty steps.

Spock offers me his hand.

"Go on. It's okay if you need some help," Bones says, and I relent.

I take his hand, stand again, and lean into him.

I try to ignore the fact that I have to rely on his strength.

Carefully, he guides me forward and I step with him. I only take a few paces before I circle back to the bed and sit down.

I want to cry out of sheer frustration.

"It's going to take you a couple of days to get your legs back, Uhura, but you'll get them back."

******************

I leave to draw her a hot bath.

When I return, she is alone on the biobed, staring out of the window.

She looks up at me, and my chest tightens. There is a dejection in her eyes that I am unaccustomed to.

Yesterday's anger replaced by today's sadness.

"Nyota, you will get your strength back," I say.

She turns her head to look back out the window, but I can see her eyes are glistening with tears.

"I guess so," she says softly.

It is reflex when I reach out to tuck her hair behind her ears, let the pad of my thumb stroke the soft skin of her lobe. She does not stop me.

I suppress the urge to kiss her. I have the presence of mind to understand that she is already granting me leeway I have not yet earned.

"I drew you a bath," I say, and I am pleased when she brightens for a moment.

But her face darkens again.

"I guess I'm going to need your help getting there," she says, flatly.

"I will do anything for you."

I offer her my hand again.

Though she does not look me in the eye, she takes it.

****************

_One Month Later_

My appetite has returned along with my mobility.

I take Bones' suggestion to put on weight seriously, dining on fruit and soups and breads as if I'm trying to make up for lost time.

McCoy is pleased with my progress. I've put on close to five kilograms.

I'm feeling stronger every day. The one hurdle I face consistently is exhaustion. If I am too ambitious and try to do too much in a day, I hit a wall; crawl back into my biobed and sleep like the dead.

Still, I have much to be thankful for. My child is healthy. I am healthy.

The dynamic between Spock and I differs from day to day. More accurately, it varies between the rise and fall of my hormones.

There are the days when all I can think about is him. He is quiet and patient and solid for me.

But then there are the days when I can't stand to look at him. I relive the moment on the observation deck over and over until it's all I can think about. Those are the days when he stays at arms length.

Close enough should I need him, far away enough should I need to be rid of him.

******************

McCoy and I eat soup for lunch. Again.

Ambassador Sarek has been off-planet on business for weeks, and Spock usually leave us to dine alone.

Today is no different. We sit together at a large stone table in the formal dining room and enjoy plomeek soup.

Well, at least I'm enjoying it. Just about everything tastes good these days. I can't say the same for Bones.

"No booze, no meat. Soon as I get off of this ball of rocks, I'm getting a steak and a whiskey," he says.

I smile.

"Oh, yeah. I miss meat. I would destroy a hamburger right now."

Bones clears his throat.

"All kidding aside, I do think it's time we talked about me going back to the _Enterprise_," he says.

He doesn't have to tell me that I have to stay here without him. It's understood.

I put down my spoon and sigh.

"I figured you couldn't be my personal physician for much longer. When are you going to go?" I ask.

"Probably stick around here for another week. Just to make sure everything is as it seems. Jim is getting impatient. Keeps crying about his best officers all being gone."

I want to ask him to stay, tell him that he's my only real human outlet here.

But I don't because, if I had the choice, I'd run straight back to the _Enterprise_, too.

"I know you don't want me to—"

"No, it's fine," I cut him off. "You've done so much for me already, I can't thank you enough."

"Well, let me finish, dammit. You don't want me to leave, because when I do, you and Spock are going to be alone. What then, right?"

It's true. Without him, there will be no distractions, no acerbic remarks, and no light conversation to cut through the tension between Spock and me.

Still, the defiant part of me doesn't want to admit that. He's hit a little too close to home.

"I can handle him on my own, you know."

"I didn't say you couldn't handle him. I'm saying you don't want to _deal _with him. You're still angry."

I can't tell if it's his assumption or his accuracy that pisses me off more.

"Since when did you become a shrink, Bones?" I snap.

He throws his hands into the air in mock defensiveness.

"You don't have to be a shrink to see that. I know the look of an angry woman better than I care to admit. I've been married, you know."

"Oh yeah? How did that work out for you?"

The words aren't out of my mouth before I regret them.

"I'm going to ignore that. Because you're pregnant, I'm going to _assume_ those are the hormones speaking."

"Yeah," I redden with embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"Friend to friend here, Uhura. Are you going to keep on punishing him or are you going to decide to let this go? You two are going to have a child together. No matter what, you will be part of each other's lives…for the rest of your lives."

I push my spoon around the bowl.

"I don't know, Bones. I just don't know how to just forget about what he did," I admit.

My throat clenches.

"You're not going to forget it. But can you forgive it? Hey, as you pointed out, I'm no shrink, but I do know that it's not healthy to keep carrying this resentment. It's not like you."

I frown into my soup.

"Can I say something? Without you biting my head off, I mean," he smiles and it makes me feel a little better.

"Shoot."

"He loves you. Look, I'm not saying that what he did wasn't stupid, but the man loves you. And this…is coming from someone who hasn't always been his biggest fan."

So true.

***************

I am immersed deeply in research in my father's study when Nyota appears at the doorway.

I stand.

"Nyota."

"Why did you do it?"

She is furious with me. Immediately, I am reminded of Doctor McCoy's warning to keep her stable.

"Come, Nyota, have a seat."

She ignores my request. She looks beautiful—fuller, healthier, and angrier than I have ever seen her.

"I don't want to sit. I want to know how you could look me in the eye and say the things you said to me."

Her voice and hands are shaking. I recognize a tremble inside my own body.

"I cannot give you an account that will satisfy you. Please understand how sorry I am, Nyota."

"Try me," she says, voice low.

I know that she has every right to her anger, and every right to hear an explanation for my actions. But the explanation I can give her is feeble, and will only serve to provoke her more.

I let out a breath.

"I…drew a conclusion—a false conclusion—based on the limited knowledge of the biological compatibility of our races. I was unwise."

She laughs, hollow and empty, and not at all like herself.

"Forget it," she says, and turns to walk out of the room.

I cannot let her leave, not like this.

Wisely, I have kept my distance for these weeks. But she is strong again—and logically, demanding answers. I cannot bear the thought of disappointing her more than I already have.

"Nyota, please do not leave. Please. I love you," I say.

She stops.

"Don't say that to me. You don't even know what that means."

Again, a transition. Her fury is giving way to a sadness that I am desperate to stop.

I clear my throat.

"Perhaps you are right. To me it means that I would give my life for you, or for our child. It means that every minute that we are not together during this ordeal is difficult. It means that…"

I pause for a moment, swallow hard.

"…that if you do not forgive me, I will understand. If that is what love means, Nyota, then I love you. I cannot imagine anyone else being the mother of my child."

I watch as the armor of her anger cracks. Tears slide down her face.

I reach out to wipe them away, and this time, I do not fight the instinct to pull her into me. I bury my nose in her hair and inhale deeply; relish in the intimacy I have missed since that night on the observation deck.

'How could you think so little of me?" she whispers.

"These are my failings, Nyota. Not yours. Can you forgive me these flaws?" I say.

She says nothing, but she does not pull away.

A breakthrough.

****************


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Boy, you write your own story and you end up with major respect for writers like PinkElegance, who manages to churn out 6,000 (!) words a day **

**I got some input on this chapter from LydiaMoon2, Elaine451, and Tales From The Spock Side, and I hope you like it. Thanks again for all of your support!**

********************

I miss work.

I miss the long hours on the bridge, the tension in my shoulders after a hard day, and the shop talk with the crew. I miss Sulu and Chekov and boots and tights and food from a replicator. Recycled air.

Cabin fever has officially set in.

I wander the halls of this large house, peering into the rooms, studying the art. It is immaculate, polished, and austere. Imagine that.

It doesn't take me long to find the study where I spoke to Spock last night.

I step inside; run my hands across the back of an opulent, high-backed chair.

_I cannot imagine anyone else being the mother of my child._

His words did me in. I was just vulnerable enough to give in when he held me. It felt right at the time.

Today, I don't know how I feel.

I walk over to the large bookcase that lines the far wall of the room.

_Jane Eyre_. I love this book, though I haven't read it in years. I pry it open and flip through the pages—pristine, perfect, and flat. It's never been read.

"That was one of Amanda's favorite novels."

I'm so startled that I drop it.

Ambassador Sarek looms larger than life in the doorway of this study.

"I am—so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude," I stutter, bending to grab the book. He waves his hand as if to dismiss my worry.

"Do not be. You are welcome anywhere in our family home."

I grip the binding with white knuckles, still a little taken aback at being caught.

He moves across the room so smoothly, I could swear he's floating.

"I share my son's relief in your improved condition, Lieutenant. I must apologize for leaving on business during this time. Spock has kept me abreast of your progress, and I must say, you appear very well, indeed."

I relax a bit.

"I am…much better, thank you. I must convey my gratitude for everything that you've done for me. Opening up your home, and securing the healers. It's entirely possible I wouldn't be here right now were it not for your kindness."

"It was an easy decision to make, Lieutenant. I love my son, and he loves you."

I hope the shock doesn't register on my face.

"What about you, Lieutenant?" he takes a seat at his desk. "Do you love Spock?"

Well, this is awkward.

"Spock hurt me terribly," I admit.

He sighs. "Yes, I imagine he did. A shame he will have to live with for the rest of his life."

I stay glued in place.

"Spock is a complex creature. How complex, I am only beginning to realize. But he has made it very clear to me how much he regrets what he has done to you."

My legs feel a little weak. I shift my weight back and forth on my feet.

"Please, Lieutenant, take a seat. I would not have my son believe that you are straining yourself in my presence."

I sit down; though I worry that by doing so, I've opened myself up for more of this unusual conversation.

He looks away from me, out of the large window of his study.

"I still grieve the loss of his mother. Amanda would not be able to contain herself, were she here to share in this experience."

I can hear a note of pain in his voice.

"Spock speaks highly of her," I say. "I wish I could have met her."

He turns back to me, lifts a brow in the same way I have seen Spock do so many times.

"She would have liked you very much, Lieutenant. You are, as they say, a woman after her own heart. I see why my son feels as strongly for you as he does."

I blush at his compliment.

"Much has changed for me since losing her. It is important to me now more than ever to have a relationship with my son. We lost many years to unnecessary discord."

I think of the cold, detached way I've heard Spock speak of his father in the past.

Sarek stands to look out his window, unfazed by my silence. He joins his hands behind his back.

"He will be a better father than I was."

I swallow, thickly.

"He will protect your child in ways that I did not."

He turns to face me again.

"It is interesting that in life, some things become clearer as you get further away from them. There are times that I did not protect Spock as a child. I failed him as a father."

My throat is tight. I am suddenly overwhelmed with the emotion Sarek is displaying so obviously, so uncharacteristically.

"I allowed things that I should not have. I allowed my own son to become research for the Vulcan Science Academy. At the time, I believed it logical to let our people study his unique biology. They told me that it was in the interest of our race to learn more about his hybrid nature."

I think of Spock, poked and prodded under the hands of bigots and shudder. I place my hand on my belly as if to shield my baby from the ugliness of this conversation.

"What did they do to him?" I whisper.

He paces the floor.

"I cannot be entirely sure. Spock has never spoken of it, and we never spoke of it with him. When their studies were complete, they told his mother and me that his genetic makeup was inferior and therefore undesirable—illogical from a biological sense."

I can literally hear my heart hammering in my chest.

"And they told us that he would never father children."

Tears spring to my eyes.

"Amanda was not a bitter woman. She loved me, and so she did not speak of it again. Still, I know that she never forgave me for allowing it."

"Spock—would never allow it."

*****************

I am emotionally and physically worn out from Sarek's admissions.

I can't get my mind off of Spock.

I imagine him as a little boy, subjected to terrible things, treated like a freak. God only knows what they did to him behind closed doors.

_They told us that he would never father children. _

Sarek's words are ringing in my ears, making my head ache when I get back into my bed.

I understand now how he could have dismissed my pregnancy, but I can't reconcile his actions.

He should have trusted me anyway, and he didn't.

And I don't know if I can trust him.

******************

It is mid-afternoon when I set out to find her. The urge to see her is strong.

In the moments after we spoke in the study, I watched as she collected herself and walked away. It was difficult to stand back and let her leave, but I knew that was what she wanted.

But today is a different day.

I knock softly on the door of her bedroom, and hear nothing. Slowly, I push the door open and find her nestled under the sheets of her biobed.

I walk to her and trace my fingers over her face. The hollows of her cheeks have softened with her weight gain. She is more beautiful than I remember.

I turn to leave and let her rest.

"Wait," she says.

I turn back.

"I did not mean to wake you, Nyota. I came to see how you are feeling." I say.

"I'm okay, I'm just tired."

There is something in her expression that tells me otherwise. She looks startled.

"Are you sure?"

She nods.

"Then, I will let you get the rest you need. I will be in the sitting room should you need me."

I turn again.

"Don't leave," she says quietly. "Can you stay with me?"

I can and I will. She surprises me at first with her request, then again when she moves over in the tiny biobed and motions to me.

I stand still for a moment because I cannot be sure that I understand her meaning.

She peels back the covers.

"Please…just for a minute."

It is obvious that something is wrong, but I do not want to pry, not now, not when she is asking for me and she is _this_ close.

I slide under the covers next to her, close my eyes and allow the feeling of her back cupped to my chest to sink in. I let my hand slip onto her belly.

She sleeps but I do not. I am memorizing this feeling.

***************


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I've got family in town this week, so I'm updating again tonight! Not sure when I'll be able to post again next, but you can be sure I'll be sneaking moments here and there to try and be quick about it. Again, I've been getting some great feedback from you all and thank you so much for that. I respectfully submit a little smut.**

******************

_The healers swaddle him, place him in my arms, and I stare at his wrinkled, beautiful face until my eyes fall closed with exhaustion._

_When I wake, he isn't with me. _

_I jolt upright in my bed and see a healer standing in one corner of my room._

"_Where is he? My baby, where is he?" I say. _

_The healer purses her lips at me. "He is safe."_

_I rage at her. "I want my son back, now!"_

"_You will get your son back. When we are done with him."_

_I open my mouth to scream._

***************

My heart is pounding when I wake up and I realize that I'm not alone in this bed.

Vaguely, I remember asking Spock to stay with me. His weight is comforting against my back.

"Have peace, Nyota. I am right here," he whispers.

He strokes my hair. "What troubles you?"

"Bad dream," I admit, but I don't elaborate.

Gently, I turn around in the bed to face him. It hits me hard—the realization of just how much I have missed this. The closeness, the security, the intimacy.

"I've missed you," I whisper. A twitch in his jaw gives away his surprise. He props himself up on one arm, leans down to brush a kiss to my forehead.

"And I, you," he says. "Tell me about your dream."

"There is nothing to tell," I lie. "I've already forgotten it."

I cup his face in my hand—try to imagine how he has kept his ordeal as a child so private. It must have been incredibly lonely to feel like there was no one to talk to.

I imagine it still is.

He puts his hand over mine, large and warm.

"I love you, Nyota."

I feel a lump in my throat. I can't bring myself to say it just yet.

**************

_Four Days Later_

Doctor McCoy's supplies are packed and the transport ship is waiting. To my surprise, I am loathe to see him go. I have come to enjoy his company during our time here.

"I'm ready to get back to the _Enterprise_. Don't get me wrong, you guys have been very hospitable, but I'm ready to get the hell out of here."

Understandable.

"Have you decided when to go back? I know you miss it, too."

True, but I would miss her more.

While I believe that I have already made a decision in the best interest of our child, I have yet to discuss it with Nyota. It would be illogical to discuss it with Doctor McCoy first.

"I am unsure of when I will return," I say. Not a lie, not entirely. "Please give my regards to Jim."

Nyota appears, dressed in loose robes. McCoy walks to her and they embrace.

"Thanks, Bones for everything, really. You've been amazing," she says.

"I know I have," he smiles. "Listen, just because I'm not here doesn't mean you can't get me on the comm for whatever you need. Don't hesitate to find me, okay?"

Nyota smiles, but it does not reach her eyes.

"Okay."

****************

I am dreading my first session with the healers. Without Bones, our sessions will be five straight hours of silence punctuated only by the occasional yawn.

Today, however is different.

They surprise me by bringing in a fourth woman. Somehow, she manages to look older than all of them. They walk behind her as if to give her deference.

"Thank you for coming, elders," I say, though they do not reply. They never say anything—just hand me things to drink and walk in circles around me.

I sigh. At least I have _Jane Eyre_ to read.

"This is the human that carries his child," the new woman speaks in Vulcan, her voice fragile with age.

Quietly, I look up from my book. I am certain they have no idea that I speak Vulcan.

"It is. She is abnormally strong for someone of her race. Her survival has been most…unexpected."

I feel a heat rise up my neck.

"And Spock. Has anyone spoken to him about his choice?"

"No," says the other. "Sarek would not allow it."

A frown creases the new woman's wrinkled face. She stares at me as she speaks, oblivious to my anger.

"Then I will. Should this child live, there is no reason why its mother cannot just take it back to her planet. Now that we are certain Spock is capable of reproduction, it is possible he could be of use to us. We have little choice now that there are so few males to choose from."

I grip the side of my bed.

"And the child?"

"No," the new woman says. "The child is useless."

Something inside of me snaps.

"Elders, kindly control your tongues," I say in perfect Vulcan, despite the fact that my voice is shaking.

Even the oldest of the elders cannot disguise her astonishment.

"You are an unusual woman," she says flatly.

_And you are a bigoted, nasty pig._

"Never speak of Spock or my child again," I hiss.

She raises one haughty eyebrow in my direction and I fight the unladylike urge to give her the finger.

"Very well. Peace and long life," she says, and her insincerity is her final insult.

She walks out the door.

*****************

As soon as the healers leave, I storm out of my room to find Spock.

He is speaking with his father in his study. I see the alarm in his face when I appear, flushed and out of breath.

"I apologize for interrupting," I say. Spock comes to me, right away.

"Father, excuse me," he says, taking my hand and leading me into the hall.

"Nyota, what is wrong?" he says.

I'm so flustered that I have trouble getting the words out.

"I—I don't want to have our baby here. I don't want them to _ever _touch our child," I plead.

He narrows his eyes.

"What did they do to you?" He asks. I can hear the anger in his voice.

"I…I just—I don't want them touching our child, Spock. Never, please," I say.

He pulls me into him, wraps his arms around me.

"They will not, _k'diwa_."

He stills for a moment, and I can hear the ice in his voice when he releases me to go back to his father's study.

"Get some rest, Nyota. I must speak with my father now."

*****************

My room is dark when Spock comes in, shuts the door behind him. He stands still at the end of my bed, and I can feel the angry energy coming off of him.

"They will _never_ hurt our child, Nyota. Never," he says, walking towards my bed. I sit up.

"Okay," I whisper. There is just enough light streaming in from the moons for me to make out his face. I know—better than anyone—when he is furious. And he is furious.

I want to console him. I want him to console me.

"Come, Spock," I murmur, getting on my knees at the edge of the bed. I reach for the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head. Let my hands trace over the smooth muscle.

"It's okay, I promise. I just got freaked out," I say, and press up against him. I find his mouth with mine and sink into him, kiss him just like I used to, just like I've missed for so long. He brings his hands to my face and breaths hard into our kiss.

"I will protect you at any cost," he whispers.

"I know you will," I say, feeling arousal pooling in my gut. I open my robes and hear him take in a ragged breath.

I want him to know much I want this. I shrug out of the robes and bare myself completely.

His hands are warm against my exposed skin. He kisses my neck slowly; winding his way up until his mouth is at my ear. Goosebumps pebble all over my skin.

"You are the most important thing to me, Nyota. You and our child," he says, covering my belly with his hand.

"I know," I say, believe him—believing myself entirely.

"Make love to me, please" I whisper.

He answers with his body, pushing me flat onto the bed, kissing me so hard he steals my breath. I push his pants off of his hips and sigh when I feel the entire length of his body fitted against mine.

He groans into my mouth when I rake my nails up and down his back.

My nipples are standing at attention, so hard and so sensitive that I almost scream when he lowers his mouth to them. Flicks his tongue across them.

He tastes every inch of my skin and the sensation is entirely new, different now that I am pregnant. Every nerve in my body is on high alert and the pleasure borders on pain.

"Nyota…" he says my name over and over again. I pant in response as he moves his mouth across the space between my breasts, the skin of my stomach.

When he lowers his head to the junction of my thighs, I can't hold it back—I scream, crying out, grasping at the sheets underneath me.

He loves me with his mouth until I am sobbing, shuddering underneath him.

When I open my eyes, he is above me, bracing himself on his arms.

"I love you, Nyota," he whispers. He takes himself in his hand and slides his length across my wet heat.

I arch off of the bed to meet his mouth when I feel him at my entrance. He laces his fingers through mine and pushes into me slow, agonizing. I gasp at every inch, grasp his arms for support.

It's been so long, too long since we made love.

I wrap my legs around him and close my eyes—let myself drown in the sensation. Despite his attempt to be gentle, I feel pressure building inside of him like steam.

Anger, frustration, arousal, passion—I can't be sure which is winning the battle right now.

There is a transference when he comes, a meld of some kind that stuns me so hard I can't see. His orgasm clangs around inside of my head until I break with him, skin sweaty and sticky against his. He growls low and primitive until he is hoarse with exhaustion.

Then he collapses on top of me, chest heaving, breathing hard into my skin. I run my fingers through his hair and hold him as if I'm protecting him from judgment, from the people on this planet who think so little of him.

It breaks my heart and I let the tears come.

"I love you too, Spock."

******************


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hello all. I apologize for not being able to post. First, the family visit and now…the swine flu! I'm packing the H1N1 and feeling pretty crappy. So…that could mean that I can't work this week and could pump out more of this story—or it could mean that I'm in bed all day just trying to feel better. I hope it doesn't get too bad.**

**Anyway, I've disinfected this chapter for your safety. I thought I would get more into Vulcan confrontations here—but I see that's the next chapter. So…enjoy. And let me know what you think.**

****************

I wake with a singular thought. The healers must be dealt with.

They have done something to offend—even scare—the mother of my child and I intend to make sure it never happens again. My brief conversation with my father shed some light on their intentions, but I want to hear directly from Nyota about what transpired during her cleansing session.

Logically, a confrontation with the elders is not my only concern this morning. I look down at the other as she sleeps soundly; bare and natural and just as I have always preferred her.

I trace a finger down the line of her back, close my eyes and let our lovemaking replay in my mind like a vid.

My memory is eidetic, and still I find it strange that my recollection of the act is as clear as it is. My mind was blank in the moments after she accepted me into her bed. For those short moments—far too short moments—we were as we were before. She was passionate and accepting. She told me she loved me for the first time.

I can only hope that she does not decide that she feels differently today.

My hand wanders to the soft curve of her belly. I try to imagine our child. Its physical characteristics. Its temperament. Its voice and face and hands.

I hope our child takes most after her.

It is far too soon in our rather fragile reconciliation for me to speak freely with Nyota about her pregnancy—not in the way that I would like.

I am not certain that she is ready to hear that the sight of her with my child is intoxicating. I am not certain that she is ready to know that while this child is still forming in her womb, I secretly harbor desire for another.

Those revelations, in time.

******************

I wake slowly and feel my brain roll over and kickstart like a rusty engine.

There is a pleasant soreness pulsing in all of my muscles, so I stretch my limbs and spine and feel the blood rush from head to toe.

Spock traces warm fingers against my back.

"Good morning, Nyota," he says. His mouth is hovering over my neck and the words feel warm against my skin. I flush all over. Good morning, indeed.

I roll over to face him. "Good morning."

"How do you feel?" he asks, reaching over to brush the hair out of my face.

Hungry and sated, all at once. I feel relaxed and limp after our lovemaking.

I also want an omelette with steak and cheese and a little bacon on top, for good measure.

I push the thought of food out of my head because he is staring at me intently, and the look on his face is all business.

"Better," I say. "I just got really worked up after the whole…and you made me feel much…better."

His cheeks and the tips of his ears flush light green.

"Nyota," he says, tipping my chin towards him with a finger. He kisses me softly. "I never want to see you upset like that again," Another kiss.

"I love you."

I nearly jump at the memory of those words—at the realization that I told him that I loved him last night. I was caught up in the moment, caught up in the feeling of him.

Now, I feel a jab of remorse because although I know I love him—I don't know if he_ should _know that I love him. It still nags at me that I cannot trust him completely. It nags at me that things between us still feel unresolved. And it nags at me that I don't feel welcome or safe on this planet.

His brows knit together as if he can sense the shift in my moods. He clears his throat.

"Nyota, tell me about what happened with the healers."

My stomach drops at the mention of those women. I don't like anything about what they said about me, about Spock, about our child. Thinking about the cold, calculating way they dismissed me makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Thinking about Spock's reaction when he hears about it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

"I...don't know where to start," I say lamely.

"Start anywhere you like. Wherever you feel comfortable."

I swallow thickly, but say nothing.

He runs a warm hand across my face.

"_Ashayam_," he whispers, kissing a line across my jaw. "Tell me, please."

*****************

She looks at me with wide eyes, unsure of her next step. Not at all like my confident Nyota.

"Tell me so that I can make it right," I whisper, sliding my hand across her arm. She shivers.

"They want you to stay here and be bonded to a Vulcan," she says.

I nod. This much I already know, given my conversation with my father. Still, hearing her say it is another thing entirely.

I do not want her to even consider it.

"They want to get rid of me—ship me back to Earth with our baby," she says softly.

I say nothing for a moment because I feel instantaneous anger. Last night's fury fresh today.

"They think that you can be of use to them now that they know…" she stops herself.

I tense.

Her implication is obvious and at once, I am eleven years old again. The same boy who was forfeited in the name of science to endure things no one should ever have to endure. The reminder is painful and potent and it is only after a few moments that I realize that she is stroking my face.

"None of those things will come to pass, Nyota. I will make sure of it," I say, taking great care to keep my voice even. I drop a kiss onto her forehead.

"Come, let me make you something to eat. After that, I have business to attend to."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: ****I'm getting better, day by day. Thanks to all of you for your kind notes. The swine flu is no joke, so I suggest you all bathe in hand sanitizer and steer clear! I wrote this chapter in between naps and I hope you like it. It was difficult to think of how a confrontation between Vulcans (not the violent kind, of course) would go, but here is my interpretation. Let me know what you think and again—thanks for everything!**

*

I waste no time finding my father.

"I am taking Nyota off of this planet," I say. My father looks up from his research, sighs.

"Treating her elsewhere could create a potentially dangerous complication in her pregnancy."

I bristle at his statement of the obvious.

"I am aware of the risk. But I believe that she can be treated properly in a more comfortable environment. I do not want her to suffer any more undue stress."

"She has expressed discomfort."

It is not a question. I nod.

"Yes, I see how that could be so. The elders are not particularly attuned to the nuances of human interaction."

"This slight is more grave than a cultural misunderstanding," I say, annoyance creeping into my voice. "They have made statements about Nyota and our child that are...unacceptable."

He purses his lips.

"I see. And the Lieutenant was privy to those statements?"

"She was. The healers were ignorant to Nyota's skill with the Vulcan language."

I let the statement hang between us.

"You are also uncomfortable here," he says.

His words are not accurate, not entirely. The truth is that I have little connection to this planet, and little connection to its people. The elders' behavior is nothing more than a confirmation of what I already know.

He stands from his desk. "If you want her to be treated on the _Enterprise, _you must speak directly with the healers. They are the only ones with knowledge of the medicines she is being given."

"That is why I am here. I am asking you for your help during this meeting," I say. "You will be more diplomatic than I."

He quirks an eyebrow in my direction.

"Indeed."

*

We shared a tense meal together before he left. I wanted to say something to smooth things over, but I found that I was at a loss for words.

When we were done, he put his hand on my belly and kissed me. I could feel the strain in him through his lips and fingertips.

I watched him leave and realized that my stomach was in knots. For him? For me? I couldn't be sure.

Shortly after that, I wandered back to my room where I decided that a hot bath would be in order. A soak to sooth my muscles, maybe even soothe my mind.

Now, I open my robes and stand in front of the mirror. The sound of the water running is relaxing. I listen to it as I stare at my reflection.

It's hard for me to believe how much my life has changed, how much my body has changed, how much has happened to me in the span of three months.

Every inch of me is different somehow, and I remind myself that the real transformation has only begun. My waist and arms and thighs are softer, fuller. My breasts are swollen and tender.

I put my hands on my belly and turn sideways, examine it closely. I walk my fingertips gently across the swell. My pregnancy is only obvious because I'm nude; it's easily hidden when I wear my robes.

I remember that my mother didn't get huge until her final months and I suppose that I am following suit. I wonder what it will feel like in those final months, when I'm swollen and can't move and ready to pop.

I slide my hands over my stomach in circles, press down on it and close my eyes. I imagine that I can already feel the movement of my child, imagine that I can already communicate with it.

"Baby," I whisper. "Don't worry. We're going to leave this place."

*

My father has arranged a meeting with the healers. Our footsteps echo in the large hall where they are waiting for us. It is a cold, spartan room. Fitting of the women seated inside.

The eldest stands. "Sarek, what is the nature of your call?"

"I have--"

I interrupt. This is _my_ meeting. Concerning _my _family.

"I wish to speak with you regarding Lieutenant Uhura's care."

The healer walks around the table in small, labored steps.

"Your Lieutenant has received the highest level of care we can afford her, Spock. Do you find it lacking?"

Sorely.

"Your care has been..." I stop and consider my next word.

"...adequate."

"Spock.." I hear my father warn me with his tone. I regulate my breathing until I feel the firm grip of my control again.

"Was your purpose in coming here to insult us, Spock?"

I wait for a moment before answering. Remind myself that I am here for Nyota.

"It is not my intention to insult you, elder. I simply ask for your cooperation so that she can be treated elsewhere."

She snorts.

"Have her treated anywhere you wish, Spock. She is of no concern to us."

Her arrogance is grating. I grip my hands tightly behind my back.

"That may be, but she is my utmost concern. I must ask you to divulge the medicines you have been treating her with. I plan to continue her care on the _Enterprise_."

"And you would take that knowledge and go back to your Starfleet with this woman?"

I steal a glance at my father who seems transfixed on the tension between us.

"Affirmative."

She narrows her eyes at me.

"I cannot allow it. Your people do not benefit from this solution, Spock."

I resist the urge to tell her that I am not concerned with the benefit of my people. They have demonstrated little concern for me.

"My only concern is my family."

"Family, Spock? This woman is not your bondmate."

In my eyes, she is. Bonding is a formality not yet addressed.

I repeat myself, "This is my _family_, elder. And I intend to care for them to the best of my ability. That means taking them off of this planet and away from those who might wish to disrespect them," I pause. "Or disrespect me."

I ignore the heat from my father's stare.

"No one has disrespected you, Spock. Quite the opposite. We wish to have you stay on our colony, bond to a Vulcan partner. I take it that you find this proposition disagreeable?"

"Quite."

Anger flashes across her face, but only momentarily. In a fraction of a second, she is still and placid again.

"You must think of the greater good. We need able-bodied men to continue our proud lineage. Would you have all that you have known as a child wither and die?"

My hackles raise up at her words. I grind my teeth together to offset the tension in my body.

"I wish for you to continue building our race on this colony," I say. "Without me."

I take a step closer. "And I want you to show me how to care for my wife and child so that we may leave this planet."

She sneers.

"Your claim of independence from our people is in direct opposition with your needs, Spock. Stay and be bonded. Produce children here, and we will see to it that your human is cared for."

My jaw is tight when I answer her. "I will _not_ stay."

The cracked, wrinkled lines of her mouth turn upwards. "Then we are at an impasse."

I ball my hands into fists at my side, and my father, perhaps sensing my crumbling control, steps forward.

"There is no impasse," he says. The elder turns her attention to him.

"Sarek, you cannot support his request. It goes against all that we are working for."

"You will give my son the information he needs and allow him to take the Lieutenant back to his ship."

She raises an eyebrow at him. I am silent, taken aback by my father's words.

"We will not," she hisses.

"You _will_. You admit that our people are in need. It is in this time that we need the support of our allies most. It would be illogical to consider a course of action that could estrange our people from the Federation."

She narrows her eyes at him. "Make your meaning clear, Sarek. Am I to consider this a threat?"

His lips thin.

"I cannot determine how you will interpret my words, elder. But I will say this--there will be much to answer for if the Federation is made aware that our people were asked to help a Starfleet Lieutenant and chose not to. That knowledge alone could jeopardize our standing with the council."

He pauses, looks at me before turning back to her.

"And as ambassador to Earth, I am in frequent contact with the Federation council. I am certain I would be called on to answer their questions, _should _such a situation arise."

She stands still, eyes widened on my father as she considers his warning.

"I see. You mean to give us no choice." She stands alone as the others sit at the stone desk, whispering.

"Then you will have your medicines. Take this woman off of our planet."

I look over at my father and think of something I have heard Jim say before. I never knew he had it in him.

*


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: This little piggy is done with the swine flu. Pros: Losing 5 pounds. Cons: Headaches, chills, sweating, nausea, feeling so crappy you wish you could die, etc. I actually managed to get out another chapter today because my husband was distracted with the Masters. Worked out for both of us :-) Hope you guys enjoy this one...a little more drama and a little more angst. Please, let me know what you think!**

*

Blackmail is not a tactic I have ever seen my father employ--not an ability I believed to be in his repertoire.

Seeing him stand firm against our elders was a shock for me. Watching him use his position as leverage was equally stunning.

My gratitude is as great as my surprise.

"I must thank you for what you did before the elders, Father," I say.

He stares at the path ahead. "Your thanks are not necessary, Spock. I did what was right."

I do not let his dismissal of my acknowledgment perturb me. I understand his meaning, even if his words leave something to be desired.

We say nothing for the remainder of the walk. I am engrossed in my thoughts.

Angry thoughts of the elders. Their disdain for Nyota and our child. Bitter thoughts of those who have done unspeakable things to me in the name of research.

In the name of Vulcan.

*

I am sitting in the reading chair in my room when Spock comes back from his meeting with the elders.

I put my book down, and stand to greet him. He looks worn.

"Hey..." I say. "...how did it go?"

"The healers have agreed to supply us with the medicines we need. I have already contacted the Captain, who is arranging for transport. He estimates three weeks before that transport will arrive."

It's good news—great news, really--and I want to put my arms around him. But I don't because he seems distant, distracted.

"This is a good thing, right?" He nods, and stares at my hand when I reach out to him. I frown.

"Then why don't you seem pleased?"

"I am pleased, Nyota. I am just..." he trails off and I watch him, expectantly.

"Just what?" I feel tension rise up inside of me. "What aren't you telling me?"

He stiffens. "They have agreed to our request, Nyota. There is no more that I wish to discuss at this time."

He turns to walk out of my room, and I snap.

My voice is high and shrill when I start to yell. "You _don't_ get to do that, Spock! You don't just get to come in here and be evasive with me! This is just as much about me and our baby as it is about you!"

He stops and turns back to face me.

"I am not being evasive, Nyota. I am asking you to do without the details. You asked me to have you treated elsewhere and I stood before the elders to make it happen. What more do you need?" his eyes are black and brimming with angry energy when he turns back to face me.

Fire. It's burning through my body and across my face. My hormones go into overdrive.

"I _need_ you to start acting like we are partners, Spock. I _need _you to be honest with me. I _need_ to be able to trust you again! Does that cover it for you?"

He stills.

His voice is low when he speaks again. "You can trust me, Nyota."

A strangled laugh bubbles up from my chest.

"How am I to know that? You want me to be sure of that, but I can't. You _left_ me. What's going to stop you from doing it again?" I say.

Speaking the words makes tears spring to my eyes. But I'm too mad to let them fall.

"I will never leave you, Nyota. I give you my word. Believe me," he says, hoarsely.

"That's not enough for me, Spock," I say. "I never believed you could do something like that. I never believed that you wouldn't trust me completely. But you didn't. And now, I can't trust you."

He looks away from me, lets his eyes drop to the floor.

"I love you, Nyota. You have told me the same. Is this not true?" he asks.

I take a deep breath. Isn't that the million-credit question?

"It is. It is true. I love you. But love isn't everything, Spock. And I can't do this if I can't trust you completely."

He blinks slowly, then drops onto the edge of my biobed and puts his face in his hands.

The sight of him so rattled makes my throat tight. I have to remind myself that he owes me this; that this conversation can't be avoided if we want a future together.

He sits there for what feels like minutes before he speaks again.

"There are.." he stops. "There were...instances in my childhood. Memories that are..." he stops again.

"Painful?" I whisper.

He nods, stares out into nowhere when he speaks.

"I am reluctant to remember these things. Being here, being in conflict with the elders makes those memories more vivid."

My anger slows into a throb inside my head. His pain is so thick I feel like I'm drowning in it.

"Tell me," I say softly, walking closer. I stand and bury my hands in his hair, stroke his ears. "Tell me. Share your burden with me, Spock."

He shakes his head in my hands. "You ask too much of me, Nyota."

I pull his head into my chest, close my arms around him. I whisper.

"Trust me, Spock. Trust me so that I can trust you."

*

I resist because it feels like the only way to protect myself.

She wants me to share things I have never spoken of with anyone. She wants me to share pain that has long been buried deep within my psyche. It took many years of meditation to overcome the fear and paranoia that plagued me following my sessions at the Vulcan Science Academy.

The thought of reliving that time tests the strength of my control.

"You ask too much of me, Nyota," I say.

She pulls me close and I can hear her heart pounding. I close my eyes and listen to the rhythmic beating.

"Trust me so that I can trust you," she says.

I think about what she has told me. That love is not everything. That I must work to rebuild the trust I broke when I denied my child.

I understand what she wants of me. I understand what I must do to prove myself to her.

I put my hands on her waist, guide her into my lap.

"Do you love me, Nyota?" I whisper. She nods.

"I do. I love you," she whispers, brushing her lips against mine.

I take several deep breaths before I put my fingers on her contact points.

*

_He is just a boy. _

_They strap him down on a table and take samples of everything: hair, nails, blood, saliva, and semen. _

_I feel him try to control his fear while they walk around him in circles and take notes._

_They test his threshold for pain, using needles against his skin. He runs calculations in his head to distract him from the hurt. _

_He is exposed to extreme heat, extreme cold. He chatters uncontrollably while they whisper to one another by a large glass wall. _

_They deny him food, make him exercise after days of starvation. They force him to run until his muscles fail._

"_You will never be able to reproduce. Do you understand what I am telling you?" An old man stares down into his face and he nods, slowly. "Nature does not allow for the propagation of undesirable species."_

_I feel his chest tighten. He's just a boy and still he understands the implications of what this man is telling him. He is a fluke. He is the end. _

_He has no future._

The link ends like a punch to my gut. I start crying, or maybe I've already been crying—I'm not really sure. He says nothing—he doesn't have to. He's already shown me more than I can handle.

I stay wrapped in his arms until I fall asleep.

*


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Sorry I've been so lame with updating. It's been bonkers at work. Some of you might be familiar with the Haleigh Cummings case (it's gone pretty national) and we were working overtime breaking some news on that! Kind of a short chapter, but we are wrapping up New Vulcan. Again, thanks so much for the reviews, and please let me know what you think. **

*

The meld changed everything.

I believed that I knew Spock, really _knew_ him before our mutual meltdown. But now I know that whatever we had before was simple and easy and surface.

The scary stuff, the painful stuff, the stuff that you want to keep locked away forever—that's real.

He changed everything when he showed me what he's been trying to hide for all of these years.

And it's changed me.

What happened between us is in the past. What we did to punish one another is in the past. Dwelling on it—stewing in it does no good for either of us. We have a child on the way.

The trust is coming back.

The next month passes far too slowly. I continue my sessions with the healers, who seem to have had their edge knocked off a bit. Not that they're particularly friendly, just a bit less frosty. Spock has hinted to me that his father has something to do with their new attitude.

I don't particularly care about their attitudes, not anymore. Spock and I are going back to the _Enterprise_ and there is nothing those women can do about it.

We are only three days away from transport when it happens.

I'm packing my robes and a few stray items when I feel it. A twinge.

I stop and stand completely still until I am sure I feel it again. A bump.

Holy crap.

*

She is flushed when she appears in the door of the study. I stand quickly and walk to her without hesitation.

"Is everything alright?" I ask. She nods excitedly.

"You have to feel this," she says, taking my hand and placing it onto the swell of her belly.

I know immediately what I should be sensing, but I do not feel it.

She looks at me expectantly. "Nothing?"

"No, I cannot sense anything."

Her smile falls.

"Maybe...try it here," she says, moving my hand to the other side.

I close my eyes and concentrate. I _want_ to feel our child. I want to feel it because I can see just how much she wants me to. Still, there is nothing.

When I open my eyes again, her disappointment is clear. I slide my hands to the sides of her face.

"Do not be sad, _k'diwa,_" I say, kissing her forehead. "Soon, I will feel our child."

She exhales, loudly. "I know. I just got so excited and I wanted you to get excited too."

I stroke her hair.

"Will you sit?" I say, motioning towards the chair.

She does.

"I have spoken with the Captain and all arrangements are final. We leave in three days, 80 hours and 10 minutes exactly. Doctor McCoy has arranged for accommodations in your quarters, so you can be cleansed there."

I feel a sense of accomplishment when she smiles at me.

"I can't wait to go back," she says. "Has Jim told you yet if I can go back to work?"

I purse my lips. This is something Jim and I have discussed at length. Something I know she wants very much. I consider my answer carefully, as she has already experienced some disappointment.

"That remains to be seen. The Captain would like to discuss that matter directly with you."

She nods understandingly.

"There is also something that I would like to discuss with you, Nyota." I sit in the chair next to hers and reach for her hand. She twines her fingers into mine.

"I have been in contact with Starfleet command. They have approved my request for a transfer to the Academy."

Her eyes widen. "You...are resigning your commission?"

I nod. "I will, when our child arrives. Teaching affords our family a stability that duty on the _Enterprise_ does not."

She is silent for a moment before speaking.

"But you love the _Enterprise_."

I do. But I love her more. Leaving Nyota for months—even years at a time is not an option. It is illogical and not in the best interest of our family. I say nothing.

She shakes her head, "I know you love this job, Spock. I can't ask you--"

I interrupt, "You are not asking me for anything. This is my decision. I would not have it so that my wife and child were alone. My duty to you comes first."

*

The "w" word sure as hell didn't slip by me. I'm surprised that it startles me as much as it does. After all, we are having a child.

Still, I find that I stutter over my next words. "Y-you intend to marry me?"

I wince at how silly the question sounds as soon as I ask it.

The corners of his mouth turn downward.

"If...you will have me," he says slowly.

I stare down at where our hands are linked. Study his pale fingers in contrast with mine.

Marriage.

I'm overwhelmed with how much our lives are about to change. How much he is willing to change to make this work.

I close my eyes and feel wetness on my lashes.

"Nyota, I...can feel..."

Of course he can. I look up at him and he reaches to touch my face.

"Yes," I say. "I will marry you."

*

The trip back to the _Enterprise _feels like an eternity. I'm jittery with anticipation and Spock isn't doing any better. He paces the floor of the transport while I sit, reading.

"It is time for your medicine," he reminds me. I make a face at the thought of it.

I swear, the oldest of the healers almost smiled during our last session. I'm just as glad to be rid of her as she probably was to see me go.

Still, I'm stuck drinking this nasty concoction they've cooked up. And we're traveling with a lot of it. Sarek easily calculated how much of it I would need and ensured that each dose got on board.

He brings me the cup and I start forcing it down. He moves back towards the window and stands with hands clasped behind his back, face lit with the passing stars.

"Spock?"

He turns.

"Yes, _ashayam?"_

"I love you."

*


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: This fic...is starting to wrap up. I don't think there will be many more chapters after this, and I hope you all like where it is heading. Back on the Enterprise now, where at least there are familiar faces. Again, I hope you enjoy—and please let me know what you think. You guys are great.**

*

The _Enterprise_ feels like home. Everyone is as they were, but somehow still different. I ignore the eyes and the whispers that follow me when I walk the halls. I'm well aware that my disappearance, as well as Spock's, has set the gossip mill ablaze. Our reemergence together has only served to give the mongers more fuel.

First things first, Bones takes me to Sickbay for an evaluation. He seems pleased with my progress thus far and asks about my cleansing schedule. He sets appointments for me and asks me to take it easy. I note that he has not said anything about returning to duty, so I bring it up.

"So, can I work?" I ask.

I hope desperately that the answer is yes because I've been stuck on New Vulcan for months and I'm dying to feel useful again. I'm an intelligent woman and I need to put this brain to work.

"I..." he starts. "You..._could _go back to duty. Limited hours. I would want you to continue wearing your monitor," he says.

I nod. "Absolutely. Whatever it takes," I say.

Of course, Bones agreeing to clear me for duty is one thing. I've still got to get the Captain to agree.

He and Spock have been sequestered in his ready room; talking ship business since we've been back.

I'm too riled up to give them their "man" time, so I interrupt.

"Captain," I say, walking into his office. He stands to greet me.

"Lieutenant," he says, smiling widely. "You look great," he says.

I smile back. "Thank you. It's all just a piece of cake once you regain consciousness," I say. Spock quirks an eyebrow at me as though he doesn't appreciate my joke.

I ignore that.

"So...I'm here to ask you to put me back on active duty," I say.

Both men exchange a glance that gets under my skin. Obviously, they've talked about this, and not with me.

"With all due respect, Captain, I'm a Starfleet Officer, and I'm pregnant--not _contagious._"

Jim licks his lips. It's a nervous habit of his.

"I don't want to make the call on active duty. Not yet. I would rather see how you hold up after a few days, and then we'll see where we go from there," he says.

I look at Spock, who takes great care not to look back at me. I sigh loudly.

"Okay. A few days, and I'm back here to hear what you've decided, okay?"

He nods.

*

Spock slips right back into schedule and God knows Jim is glad to have him back. I, on the other hand, am feeling a bit futile. I read research and journals and practice some of my weaker languages. It's the only thing I can do to pass the time.

For now, I'm still squeezing into my old uniforms. They are not entirely indecent. Tight around the arms and definitely around the midsection, but they will do for now. My bump is much more pronounced in my uniform than in my Vulcan robes.

I stop into the mess for lunch and see Janice Rand sitting at a table by herself.

I smile—it's been a while since Janice and I have been able to catch up, so I lug my salad and soup in her direction. She looks up and smiles when she sees me.

"Uhura," she says, grinning widely. "We've missed you."

I put down my plate and take a seat in front of her.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you guys, too. Being off the ship was no fun," I say, opening a container of juice. She rips off a chunk of bread and leans in to get closer to me.

"So...when did...you know, you and Spock?" she asks quietly. I take a sip of my drink.

"It's been a while, Janice. We just didn't—you know how it is. We didn't want anyone asking about chain of command...or anything of the like. But yeah, it's been a while," I say.

"Well, I think it's a good match. You two seem very well suited to one another," she says.

I shrug. "It hasn't been easy the whole way, but yes—we're on the same page," I say, taking in a spoonful of my soup. "So tell me, what are the stories going around?"

She purses her lips at me.

"Well, it's been the talk of this ship. Conspiracy theories and all that. You know how these folks are," she says.

Oh, and I do. And I think one of those _folks_ is staring at me, right now. A young blonde woman I recognize as an engineer keeps staring at me. I give her a sharp look before turning my attention back to Janice.

"I know how the ship scuttlebutt can be. What's the biggest story?" I ask.

"The one where you got pregnant and he took you to New Vulcan to _take care_ of it," she whispers.

I shake my head.

"That's dumb. If we were going to go that route, it could have been done right here," I say.

She waves her hand in the air. "Yeah, exactly. There is another...."

I pause. "Yeah?"

"Well, I w-would rather not say..." she stammers.

I interrupt her. "Tell me."

She sighs. "I've heard a few whispers about Spock not believing you about the pregnancy. That he broke up with you after you told him," she blushes. "But that's...also dumb, and you know I don't believe it."

I stare into my lunch.

There were nurses in and out of my room at the beginning of this whole mess. There is no telling what they heard of my conversations with Bones. I pray silently that this is the least popular of the rumors circulating around this ship.

"Yeah," I say weakly. "That's dumb, too."

The blonde from Engineering stands to put her tray in the refresher and makes her way over to our table.

"Lieutenant Uhura, glad to have you back," she says.

Her face is sweet as honey, but her words are snarky. I look up and offer her my most brilliant smile.

"Oh, glad to be back," I say. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Janice looking at me nervously.

The blonde flips the end of her hair before going on. "So...is it true? You and Commander Spock?" she asks.

"It is," I say, smiling hard. It's really just an excuse to grit my teeth. She's awful forward.

"That's odd," she says. "I always got the impression that you two didn't like each other."

"Well," I say, sitting back in my chair. I make sure to lean back far enough to afford her a front-row view of my belly. I circle it with my hands. "Apparently, we do."

She stares at it for a moment before giving me another fake smile.

"Best of luck."

She saunters away from the table and I turn back to Rand, scowling.

"Who was that woman?"

"Ensign O'Malley. Engineering. Kind of bitchy." she says.

"Oh yeah," I say, taking another sip of soup. "She's a bitch, alright."

*

I'm reading in bed when Spock uses his code to gain access to my quarters. I've put on a red nightie that billows around my belly—one of the few pieces of lingerie that I own that still fits.

As thorough as he it, he notices it right away. He doesn't stop moving until he's reached me in bed.

"Nyota," he murmurs, pulling me in for a kiss. I kiss him back, then pull away.

"Why don't you get a shower? Come back to bed?" I say. His eyes are dark, so dark, and they are trained right on me. The corners of his mouth turn upwards.

"I will shower quickly. I trust you will not be asleep when I return?" he teases.

"Don't keep me waiting long and I won't be," I tease back.

He doesn't.

He's clean and ready when he slips under the sheets next to me. I close my eyes when he bends down to kiss my neck.

"That feels good..." I whisper. He says nothing, breathing hard in response, mouth skating over my collarbone and the sensitive skin that covers it.

"Spock?"

"Yes?" he asks, into my skin.

"Do you know that people are talking about us?"

He doesn't seem fazed by it. He traces the lines of my arms with his fingers, follows his fingers with his mouth.

"Are you disturbed by this?" he asks.

I remember that woman from the mess—push her out of my head because whatever he's doing to my skin feels so good.

"I guess not."

*


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Yes, I feel terrible. **

**I'm sorry I've neglected updating for so long, I keep coming up with excuses to get other things done. I hope you will all forgive me. I've noticed that the upload feature keeps kicking out my formatting. It's a bit of a pain in the rear, but I'm wondering if these chapters are showing up on your screens as oddly as they do mine?**

**I think there are probably two more chapters left. Please let me know what you think, and thanks so much to everyone for reading!**

.

.

Today marks three weeks since I've been back on the ship. My belly, it seems, grew overnight.

So much for showing late. I'm almost six months in and there is no mistaking I'm pregnant. Bones says I could be pregnant for five more months. If I keep growing at this rate, I could end up confined to my room. Someone will have to cut me out of it when it's time to deliver.

Most of my t-shirts are too small, stretching around the high pooch that's now more obvious than not. I spend a lot of time in front of the mirror, inspecting myself. Watching as my body changes slowly, day to day. Seems I've got a lot of time on my hands, these days.

It's strange being back on the _Enterprise_ but not being a part of it. My life used to be the hustle and bustle on the bridge. Spending my shifts wrapped up in Starfleet business and the intergalactic drama _du jour. _Staying in close council with the Captain. Making decisions that directly affected the crew and our missions. Now, my only obligations are my checkups and cleansing sessions.

Getting back to work is the one thing on my mind.

But the Captain has been avoiding me with surprising skill.

He knows exactly what I want, but he's managed to stay just busy enough to be out of my reach. I've asked Spock to push him for an answer, but that has been fruitless. Probably because—and Spock would be loathe to admit it—he would prefer I not go back to active duty. He'd rather see me "stay rested" and "be cautious."

But I have to do _something. _So now, I'm working a different angle.

Bones.

.

.

I cannot deny that I have missed the _Enterprise_.

Active duty has done much to calm me in the wake of these last tumultuous months. Peace with Nyota has done much to calm me.

We have settled into a comfortable routine. I wake early and make breakfast for us. Report to duty. Return to her quarters at night. I am content in a way that I had not realized possible. I only wish Nyota could share in that contentment.

She is restless and it unnerves me to see her so. I am well aware of her desire for active duty. I love her and would not deny her anything, but still I harbor some reservation about the toll it could take on her body; the unforeseen effects it could have on our child.

"She left another message for me with Rand."

I look up at the Captain from my console.

"She requires an answer. You know her well enough to know that she will persist until you make a decision."

"Yeah, I know," he says, chewing at his thumb.

It is an unsanitary practice, and more often than not I remind Jim of this when I see it. Today, I leave it alone.

"Perhaps there is way to modify schedules so that she may work," I suggest. "For a few hours at a time, no more. She is in no state to man her post for 12 hours at a time."

He nods, deep in thought.

"Yeah. You know I'd much rather have her on the bridge than Hawkins. It's just that we don't have pregnant women on this ship. There isn't a whole lot of precedent on how to go about conforming the job to her needs."

I stand, lock my hands behind my back.

"I am certain you can come up with a solution, Captain."

.

.

Bones is frowning into his tricorder. That's never a good sign.

"What is it?" I say, swinging my legs over the edge of the biobed.

He jams his hand through his hair.

"Copper concentrations are going up. We'll have to shorten the time between cleansing sessions."

That's about the last thing I want to hear right now. If the Captain hears that I've got to go in for cleansing more often, he'll think that's a red flag.

"Makes sense," he mutters to himself. "Baby's growing so..."

"Bones--" I interrupt. "I'll come in every three days, if that's what you think I should do. That's fine, I swear. But I need you to go to bat for me with the Captain. Convince him that I'm not made of glass."

He stops, quirks an eyebrow at me. "Oh, yeah? And what if I don't think it's a good idea? We're still dealing with an interspecies pregnancy. By nature, it's high risk."

I blow out a deep breath.

"Bones, come on. I've been doing just fine, and you know it. Look," I point to my belly for emphasis, "I'm growing, right on schedule. I'll be careful, I'll wear the monitor, I'll alert you at the first sign of any trouble. I'm ready to crawl out of my skin if I don't do something _useful_."

He takes one good long look at me before speaking again.

"What does Spock think about it?" he asks.

It's funny—how even as I realize how my hormones are playing with me, I allow myself to be played. It can't be helped. Small things turn large and large things become catastrophic. In this case, I just get bitchy.

"What the hell does that matter? Am I supposed to ask him for permission?"

He puts his hands up in a defensive pose. "Don't get snappy with me, missy. Just curious."

I stop--remember that I'm trying to butter this man up. Catch more flies with honey and all that jazz.

So I soften my expression.

"He's warming up to it. And the Captain will, too, if you help me out. _Please._"

He rubs his hand across the stubble of his jaw.

"I'll talk to Jim about it. But that's all I can do, so don't come running back to eat me alive if he doesn't bite. You got it?"

"Got it."

I flash him a smile—a special smile reserved for people who make me _very_ happy.

.

.

He is standing at the entrance to the mess, skin pale and hair dark against the blue of his uniform. Sometimes I forget how handsome he is and simple moments like this remind me. This man, the father of my child.

He leads me into the dining room with a hand at the small of my back. It's a gesture I have always been fond of. We select our meals together. Mine with meat and his without. He doesn't even turn his nose up at my plate.

He carries our meals to a table that affords us some privacy, close to the corner of the room.

"I spoke with the Captain today about your wish to return to duty."

I arch an eyebrow, nonchalantly. "Oh, is that so?"

For a brief moment, I can see amusement play along the lines of his face. He knows damn well this is all I can think about right now.

"Yes, this is so. He is working to come up with a solution for you. Perhaps a few hours at a time."

That's good news. I almost open my mouth to say so, but I catch a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of my eye. She turns her attention from her dining partner to me. Looks over at Spock.

Damn it, this woman.

"Mmm..." I say, distractedly. He reaches across the table to take my hand.

"Is this not what you wanted to hear, Nyota?" I snap back to look at him.

"Spock--"

His brows knit together. "Yes?"

"What do you know about Ensign O'Malley?"

He turns to follow my gaze to the table where she's sitting. She averts her gaze when she realizes he's looking.

He turns back to face me.

"O'Malley, Rebecca. Engineering. Average grades." he says, flatly.

My stomach rolls over.

"She was in one of your classes?"

"Indeed, she was."

I stay silent, waiting—expecting him to say more. What I get is...nothing. I force down a few more forkfuls. Spock says nothing.

"Did you two ever..." I can't force the sentence out before he stops me.

"No, Nyota. Never."

I take great care to make sure my next words are even. "Does she have a thing for you?"

He takes a drink of water, laces his fingers together, carefully. He's stalling.

I wait.

"She has, in the past, exhibited behavior that could suggest an interest, yes," he says, finally.

I stand.

"You know what? I'm really not hungry anymore."

.

.

"Nyota, perhaps this is a discussion for somewhere less...public." I say, softly.

She is acting out of character, agitated, and I would prefer not to make a scene in front of the entire mess.

She nods tightly and proceeds to walk out. I follow closely behind her.

Once we are back at her quarters, I stand and watch her as she moves quietly around the room.

She lets down her hair, pulls a brush through it.

"_K'diwa_, please explain your anger to me," I say, calmly.

She tugs her uniform over her head and stands before me, dressed only in her undergarments.

She looks—beautiful. Even angry. Especially angry.

"I'm a little fragile right now, Spock. You tell me this woman has interest in you, then say nothing more. Would it kill you to offer me a little reassurance?"

It would not have killed me, as I know this to be illogical. Wisely, I do not say this to Nyota.

She sits down on the bed.

"I did not wish to upset you with talk of Ensign O'Malley. She is insignificant--of no consequence to our relationship," I say plainly.

I sit down next to her, inch close to her. She does not move away, but she does not meet my eyes with her own.

"I was your student once."

I purse my lips, think about the stolen moments we shared against Starfleet regulation, the covert romance we nurtured under the noses of our superiors. And it is now clear, her insecurity, her anger with me.

I reach out to stroke her face with my hands and she flinches, turns her head away from me.

"You were. And you are the only woman I have ever loved. I have never considered another woman, Nyota."

She nods, shuts her eyes, and I can see the tears start to gather around her eyelashes. I circle my arm around her back and pull her close. Her body is rigid.

"Some days I feel like I'm losing myself," she says, quietly. I stroke her hair.

"I'm not who I used to be. I used to define myself by what I could do, and now I feel as though everything I can't do defines me."

I place a hand on her growing womb. "You are doing something amazing, right now, _k'diwa._"

She sighs.

"I feel huge. And then I see this beautiful blonde woman, obviously making a play for you, and it makes me feel..." she pauses, "...worse."

'I spread out the sheets of the bed behind her, guide her back until she is sprawled out underneath me. I lay on my side and trace a finger across the skin of her belly.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, Nyota. Your pregnancy only makes you more so."

I feel her relax under my fingers.

"Perhaps I have been remiss in showing you this," I say, lowering my head to kiss her.

Her frustration melts under the weight of my mouth.

Slowly, reverently, I make sure there is no misunderstanding between us.

.

. 


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Slowly, but surely, right? I'm trying my best to stay on top of updates and I can't thank you all enough for sticking with me. **

**Special thanks to TeaOli for helping me with the formatting. It's much easier to read when you break things up!**

**And please let me know what you think. You guys are great!**

.

.

Finally, I get the call.

Hawkins is sick, and that's my opening. I take a seat and breathe in the air of the bridge, fix my headpiece. It feels great, even if I fit into my console a bit differently nowadays.

Starfleet doesn't make maternity wear. Instead, the Captain has ordered me bigger uniforms. They billow around my legs and arms and fit snug around my middle. I'm sure I'm a sight, but I can't be bothered.

Not when I'm on the bridge and I feel needed and competent and better than I have in months.

My schedule is easy and flexible. A few hours a day every few days. It gives me something to look forward to. When I'm on duty, my mind is clear and sharp. Languages flow in and out of me in a natural rhythm.

It just feels right.

And maybe that's why I have a creeping fear that I won't take to motherhood the way I have to linguistics.

Secretly, I wonder how I'm going to be able to transition from dedicated officer and careerwoman to mom and wife. I wonder if the women who have it all—beautiful kids, accolades, careers—are just a myth.

It's shameful, feeling as though I don't know whether or not I will be happy just being a mom.

My secret guilt.

.

.

I am nothing, if not prepared and precise.

I have already finalized plans for our life back in San Francisco. We will have a home—a rental—because it is the logical choice. It is a large space, and there is a room not far from the master that will serve well as a nursery. It is only a few blocks from the Academy.

To my surprise, I receive a communication from my father with an inquiry as to the size of our new home.

He has expressed a desire to visit with us once our child is born. I relay his inquiry to Nyota, who smiles and assures me that he will not be an imposition. I feel a quiet sense of pride at my father's request, a sense of accomplishment that he has asked to bear witness to my new family.

Nyota is growing rapidly, glowing and full with her pregnancy. She seems more centered—more content now that she has been able to return to active duty.

Each night, we eat dinner in her quarters and she has much to say about her day. We lie side-by-side in her bed and talk about our child. Nyota has decided not to learn the sex of our baby, and though I am impatient to find out, I respect her wishes. We stay up late many nights and talk about what it will look like, how it will grow, which one of us it will take most after.

But she never asks me about San Francisco. She never broaches the subject of leaving the ship.

And I know her well enough to know her omissions are as telling as her admissions.

.

.

_The bridge is spotless and empty. I look around for a clue as to why I've been summoned here. _

_I thought I was asleep, but as I look at myself, I see I'm dressed in uniform—prepared for duty. _

_But there's no one else here._

_I hear a swoosh._

_The eldest of the healers walks in, holding my baby. My newborn baby girl. _

_When I see her I run to her, but the healer does not hand her to me. She stands silent, still, judging._

"_Have you made your choice?" she creaks._

_I stare at her, dumbfounded. "What? Give me my child!" I say, reaching for her again._

_Still, she holds her out of my reach._

"_Your choice, Human. Your child," she pauses, waving one hand at the bridge, "or this."_

_I open my mouth to scream at her._

.

.

"What?" I mumble, coming out of the darkness. Spock has a hand draped possessively over my stomach. As usual, he's wide awake.

He lowers his head and places a gentle kiss on the back of my neck.

"I felt our child again, _k'diwa,"_ he says, softly.

I smile, even though he can't see me. I feel him pull me into him, tighter.

"That's good," I say, before drifting back into sleep.

.

.

Chow time.

Sulu's hungry and he asks me to grab a bite.

"You hungry?" he says, as we make our way down the corridor.

"I'm almost 8 months pregnant, Sulu. I'm always hungry," I quip.

He's a pig, really. I'm the one feeding two people and he's scarfing down three times what I've got on my plate.

He pats his belly appreciatively before going in for more food. That's what I love about Sulu. He's self-aware, but not self-conscious.

"You gonna eat that?" he asks, pointing towards my plate. I look down. Apparently, I've left a roll that he wants to clean up.

I smile. "Have at it."

And there she is again.

O'Malley.

She stands to take her plate to the 'fresher and saunters past me, putting an extra swing into her hips that I'm sure isn't there when she's alone. I narrow my eyes.

"What's wrong?" Sulu says, with his mouth half-full.

"Nothing," I say.

Sure, she's got the figure and she's flaunting it for me. I feel like a space cow in this getup. I get it; her petty little game.

But that doesn't mean I have to like it.

"Sulu," I say, standing quickly. I put a hand at my lower back, because damned if doing anything too quickly these days isn't rough.

"Gotta run."

.

.

"Ensign," I say, and she turns in the light of the bright corridor. She quirks one haughty eyebrow at me as a I labor to catch up with her.

"Lieutenant," she says sharply.

"I don't think we've really had the chance to get to know each other," I say brightly, extending my hand.

"Nyota Uhura."

She takes it and shakes it weakly.

"Rebecca O'Malley."

"Good," I say, smiling. She's just so damn smug, I can't resist going in for the kill.

"Now that we've gotten to know each other better, let me make myself clear. I don't blame you for having a crush on Spock. I'm sure you just can't help yourself. But rest assured, you aren't a blip on his vidscreen."

She leans back, surprised.

"I get it," she starts. "You're pregnant and you need to believe your man is devoted, right?"

I don't know where she's going with this, but I already know I don't like it. I say nothing—just glare at her.

"I get it, _Lieutenant. _You would have everyone believe you've got the perfect life. But some of us know better."

She leans in close. She smells fake. Just fake. I crinkle my nose.

"I know what really went down when you told him you were pregnant, Lieutenant." she smirks.

I'm so taken aback, I barely have time to check my reactions. I steel myself, still my face, and lean into her.

"You don't know shit, O'Malley. Stay out of my life, and out of my way," I whisper.

I turn on my heels and do _my_ best to saunter with 8 months of baby weight on my frame.

"And Spock?" I say, over my shoulder. "You can just dream on about that."

.

.

I just wish I felt as strong as I sounded.

The confrontation shakes me, stirs up the anger I felt at the beginning of this strange journey. She knows about what is easily the most painful moment of my life, and she threw it in my face.

It's all I can think about on the walk back to my quarters. The rage is so all-consuming that I can almost feel it pumping through my veins.

He's reading in the chair when I storm through the door.

.

.


End file.
